


Royal Treatment

by elyssblair



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Pon Farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyssblair/pseuds/elyssblair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam unexpectedly abdicates, Jim is forced to accept the title of provincial prince on his home planet of Monarch. In order for the rest of the Council of Princes to allow him to return to his place in Star Fleet, he must first prove he can rescue Enterprise Province from the financial difficulties it has plunged into.In order to get back to his life among the stars, Jim must find a saboteur and unravel the secrets his mother, his staff and his stiff Vulcan estate manager.<br/>Spock is determined to do whatever it takes to find a cure for the plague decimating the Vulcan home-world. Even if it means keeping secrets from his new prince. Unfortunately, a dangerous saboteur and Pon Farr get in the way of the best laid plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to antares for the lovely art!  
>  **Link to Art**  on [LJ](http://antares04a.livejournal.com/81794.html) || [DW](http://antares-dw.dreamwidth.org/26339.html) || [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1235470)

_The Confederation Insider holovid_

 

_"In other news, one of the Confederation of Terran Planets' favorite Royals is causing whispers again."_

_The gossip reporter leaned forward, staring into the camera with fake surprise. "Prince George Samuel Kirk, one of the nine ruling princes of the Monarch, the Confederations most prosperous and influential planet, is creating yet another stir."_

_A series of images of the prince in various locales flashed in the background of the vid._

_"For the past two years, the Prince of Enterprise Province has been on a tour of Confederation scientific facilities, following his true passion of bio-tech research. The rumbles from home, though, suggest the other provincial princes of the Royal Council our unhappy with his protracted absence. Especially after his close call on Deneva. According to sources, his transport left just days before the parasite outbreak began."_

_The images of Sam were replaced by gruesome news footage from the tragedy._

_"It's obvious the runaway prince is fine, if rumors are to be believed. He has extended his stay on Earth II twice and several eyewitnesses have reported sightings of romantic looking encounters between the prince and an unidentified lab technician. Could he be following in the footsteps of his father?"_

_A grainy, dark image of two completely unrecognizable figures appeared side-by-side with a picture of George and Winona Kirk behind the reporter._

_"Of course, everyone remembers the fairytale story of George Kirk senior, who met engineer and former farm girl Winona during his brief stint as part of Starfleet. After a secret, whirlwind courtship, they married much to the delight of audiences around the Confederation. Despite the qualms of the rest of the Royal Council about her suitability._

_"Their fairytale, however, was cut short several years later when Prince George died saving Monarch from an incursion of rogue Romulan bandits. Tragically, on the very day his youngest son, James Tiberius was born."_

_A picture of Jim from his Academy graduation took over the vid for several seconds before being replaced by one of him with his arms wrapped around a green skinned girl._

_"Speaking of young Prince James, who followed in the family tradition by joining Starfleet, he's been recently spotted on multiple occasions with an attractive Orion."_

_Once again, the reporter leaned forward to fill the holovid._

_"Could a double wedding be in the Kirk brothers' future?"_

Used to wild and, usually, inaccurate speculation about his life and his family, Jim tuned out the gossip reporter. Gaila insisted on watching the ridiculous entertainment 'news' show whenever she could. After the away mission that had left them all physically and emotionally drained, he and Bones figured she could watch whatever vids she wanted in the ship's lounge. As long as it didn't get in the way of the bourbon they were drinking.

The Confederation of Terran Planets was a loose alliance of independent settlements that came together just enough to present a united front against the other empires, federation, and unions throughout the galaxy. Its Starfleet acted mostly as diplomats and border guards, protecting planets from outside forces and unaffiliated pirates. They had no authority to act against any citizen within the Confederation.

So the crew of the Kelvin had held little power to interfere in their latest mission, a futile attempt to broker peace. The two planets involved shared a star system and a deep-seated mutual loathing. Neither party had any interest in settling their differences.

Jim should count the mission a success, since they'd managed to avoid outright bloodshed at the negotiation table, but they'd walked away with no resolution and a deepening of distrust and hatred on both sides after weeks of exhausting diplomacy.

"Well, Jim? When are you going to pop the question?" Gaila's snicker pulled him out of his melancholy thoughts and she blew him a kiss as the report drifted off into a salacious montage of the latest holovid power couple's all too public display of affection.

Jim rolled his eyes and poured another generous portion of bourbon over the melting ice in his glass.

"Yes, Jim. It's about time you made an honest woman out Gaila," McCoy added with a straight face but his eyes twinkled and he tipped his own glass towards Jim in mock salute.

"Honest woman? When we were dating, she was sleeping with three other guys."

"Sometimes in the same bed," Gaila murmured and sipped delicately at the pink fizzing drink she'd concocted.

Bones choked on his whiskey, eyes bulging and darting between Jim and Gaila to see if she was serious.

Jim shrugged but his lips twisted up in a satisfied smile at the memory of that particularly wild shore leave. He never turned down an opportunity for adrenaline or pleasure. And Gaila really knew how to pick 'em.

"I do not want to know," McCoy said, glowering at Jim. "I'll make a note to include a broad spectrum antibiotic at your next physical."

"Me or her?"

"Both of you."

He sneered at Bones, but they were interrupted before he got the chance to return the insult.

"Lieutenant Commander Kirk, you have personal communication marked urgent. Would you like me to direct it to your quarters?"

"Just send it to the lounge terminal."

He sat in front of the screen and smiled at the incoming code on the prerecorded communication. A message from home was always welcome, even if he'd spent the last few years avoiding a return to the planet of his birth. A second later, his mother's face filled the monitor and the first stirring of unease curled his stomach when he saw the deep lines of stress etched around her eyes and mouth.

"Jim, we need you to come home. Sammy is… It's too much to explain when we can't speak face to face." His mother paused, and took a deep breath. "I need you to come home. Please."

The screen faded to black and Jim blinked. That couldn't be it. He replayed the message again. And again. Looking for some clue or nuance. Each time, his mother's distress seemed more pronounced.

"Jim, is everything okay?"

Bones had moved up behind him and he hadn't even noticed. Rolling his shoulders, he nodded and forced half a smile.

"Yeah. Looks like I need to talk to Pike about taking some leave time, though. Mom wants me to come home for a visit, apparently."

Bones knew him to well to fall for his flippant nonchalance, though. McCoy crossed his arms and stared until Jim broke.

"Fine," he pushed his hand through his hair and stood up. "Something's wrong at home, but she didn't say what. I'm going to have to go back to Monarch for awhile."

McCoy followed him out of the lounge and onto the turbo-lift.

"I'll come with you."

"Bones, I'm a big boy. I can handle a trip home without an attending physician. I promise, if I step on anything rusty, I'll get a tetanus hypo right away."

Bones just continued to glower all the way to Pike's ready room.

#

Spock silently watched Winona record and send the message to her younger son. In the three years he'd known her, she'd never looked anything but calm, in control and iron willed. The toll of the last few days, however, weighed heavy on her. Her shoulders sagged, her lips pressed into a tight thin line and she continued to stare at the blank screen long after the message itself began its journey to cross half of Confederation subspace.

Hands tucked carefully behind his back, Spock stood straight and alert. The moments dragged on and he concluded Winona had forgotten he was still in the room. Clearing his throat, he moved slightly to remind his employer of his presence.

She finally looked up and gave him a half-smile. "Sorry, Spock. Just thinking about Jimmy's reaction when he gets that. He's not going to be happy about such a cryptic message. He'll be downright furious once he arrives and finds out exactly why I asked him to come home."

"I had noticed you chose your words sparingly. Why did you not tell him the severity of the situation facing Enterprise Province?"

"Jimmy likes a good mystery. And he'll run far and fast from anything that even has a whiff of commitment. Especially, if it ties him to Monarch and Enterprise."

Winona sighed and picked up the holo of her two sons, taken when they were teenagers.

"It wasn't easy, for either of them, growing up in the shadow of their father. A great prince. A hero. A martyr. Sam tried for awhile. Tried to be the perfect prince, but his heart was always more interested in his plants than the estate. Jimmy just wanted to prove he was his own man, even as a little boy. He did whatever he could to get attention and show everyone he was more than the boy born the day his father died."

Carefully she set the holo down, brushing her fingers over it. 

"My son is very like his father in many ways. Idealistic, impulsive, curious, loyal. But he is also a great deal like I was at his age. Before I met George. Looking for the next adventure, eager for freedom, terrified of commitment or being tied down."

Spock raised a single eyebrow in surprise, but refrained from making any observations.

Winona laughed lightly and stood up.

"Oh, I know you wouldn't believe it of me, now. I've been on Monarch for thirty years, tied to the province, the land, the people of Enterprise. Back then, though, I was a farm girl determined to fly free across the universe. I refused to get married to some grav-tract driver whose greatest ambition was to one day raise pigs, the way my mother and sister had."

She turned and looked out the window at the growing darkness.

"Sometimes, even now, I still feel the tug of the stars and all that open freedom and the excitement of Starfleet. Sometimes, I even think about running away from the mundane chores here. The same-old, same—old, day-in, day-out."

Winona turned back to her desk, her hand hovering over the stack of data chips on her desk representing the growing list of troubles facing Enterprise.

"But Enterprise has its own unique challenges and George would never forgive me if I abandoned his birthright."

"I… see." Spock's heart rate elevated slightly but he assured himself it was a temporary anomaly and had nothing to do with his next question. "You intend to tell your son everything when he arrives on Monarch, then?"

"Most of it." Her grin was softer and less sad when she glanced out her office door to the lab across the hall. "He's been away a long time, though. There are some things he won't understand right away. I'll break those to him when the time is right."

Spock's hands remained clasped behind his back, but if the grip of his fingers softened a degree, no one could see it.

"Don't worry about Jim, I'll handle him. You take care of the estate." She patted him on the shoulder and tilted her head to look up at him. "Speaking of mothers and sons, isn't it about time for you to be calling your mother?"

He understood this was her subtle way of letting him know the conversation was over, so he simply nodded and left her to the solitude she was seeking.

Once in his own room, he settled in front of his personal terminal and began the transmission to his mother.

Amanda Grayson remained as beautiful as ever, though the past three years of stress and worry had taken their toll. A few more strands of gray streaked her hair, and a few, faint lines had crept in around her eyes. Her smile, when she answered was as bright and soothing as it had always been, however and it lightened the weight of concern Spock could not quite tuck away, despite his best efforts.

"Spock, how are you?"

"I am well, Mother. And you?"

"I'm fine, Spock. The days are mostly the same now, but I prefer that to what excitement would mean."

He understood perfectly what she did not say. When he was a child, she would occasionally use the phrase 'no news is good news' which had seemed highly illogical to him. Now, given the circumstances, he quietly agreed, though he would never state the sentiment out loud.

"How is Father?"

The question, of course, had already been answered, since it was not the first topic his mother had engaged in. It was, however, the expected inquiry of a dutiful son. Something Spock had not always been.

He still deeply regretted the rift that had occurred between them when he refused the Vulcan Science Academy and had instead joined a non-partisan science and exploration vessel to further his education.

"He's as well as can be expected. There has been no change since your last call."

And no change the call before that, or the one before that. His mother was trying to be brave, trying to control her emotions, more out of habit and for his sake, than for her own. Still, he saw the added moisture of excess tears in her eyes and the way her clasped hands trembled on the desk in front of her.

"The newest treatment has continued to stall the progress of the symptoms. He's still in great pain and rarely fully conscious of his surroundings for more than a few minutes at a time."

It was called the Vulcan-Romulan Plague. It had begun on the Romulan homeworld and spread quickly until nearly the entire population was destroyed. No one knew for sure if it was a natural emergence of an unknown disease or if it had been a bio-weapon experiment gone horribly wrong. Many believed the latter, because the Empire had not requested help until it was way too late.

Since none of the humans from the Confederation who had responded to the distress call had contracted the disease, it was presumed the danger had past with the last Romulan victim.

Until the first case appeared on Vulcan. The plague had swept across Vulcan like wildfire, before treatments and protocols were discovered to slow the progress and inhibit the spread of the disease. By that time, nearly half the planet's population was dead, almost another quarter was infected with disease and was slowly succumbing to it. Including Spock's father.

Wanting to protect their own people off world, and unsure if it would affect any other species, the Vulcan High Council had voluntarily quarantined their homeworld until a cure could be found. That was three years ago, and while better treatments had been found to combat the symptoms and progression, no true cure had yet been discovered.

If he were fully human, he would rail at the unfairness of the situation. A great man, ambassador between Vulcan and the Terran Confederation, responsible for brokering peace and improving living conditions among several species. Brought low by virus that had wiped out half of his planet before they had found a way to slow its progress.

He was not human, however, and it was illogical to expect disease to conform to any kind of moral or ethical expectations.

Instead, Spock allowed Amanda to lead the conversation toward more mundane topics. Skirting around the edges of the current circumstances. They talked of some normalcy returning to Vulcan after three years of quarantine. His mother had joined a book club. The educational system had had to be restructured somewhat to account for the greatly decreased students and faculty and she was now teaching Terran History and Culture twice a week.

The rest of the time, she spent in the hospital. Some of it with Sarek, of course. But much of it with other patients. Reading to them. Talking to them. Playing cards or music or just sitting quietly.

He, in turn, told her about the concert he attended in the Royal City, the challenges of running a high profile estate like Enterprise, the misadventures of the cook, maintenance man and head ranger.

For over an hour, they discussed trivialities and carefully avoided topics that touched too close to their current circumstances.

Then his mother's conversation grew quieter and quieter.

"I wish you could come home."

He felt helpless. There was nothing he could do for his mother. Nothing he could do for his father. Nothing he could do for the world he had left behind.

They said their goodbyes and he promised to contact her again in one standard week then ended the transmission.

"Home," he murmured to himself. He had not thought of Vulcan as such when he left. He had not had any intention of going back. Now, it was his dearest wish to return to the planet of his birth.

#

Jim was disappointed to find the Royal City spaceport relatively quiet. It made it impossible for him to blend into the crowd. As soon as he and McCoy stepped off the transport they'd hitched a ride on from the Laurentian System, the stares and whispers had started.

Jim ducked his head, hiked his duffel more securely over his shoulder and picked up the pace toward the exit, hoping to escape before anyone got brave enough to approach them.

Of course, his luck was never that good.

"Your Highness! Prince James! Over here, sir!"

A red-haired man waved wildly at him.

"Someone you know?" Bones asked.

"No, I… wait."

Looking more closely at the grease stained red shirt, Jim saw the familiar arrow-shaped insignia of the Kirk estate. He sighed, rubbed his hands over his eyes and then turned to head for the stranger.

"Welcome back, Your Highness. Montgomery Scott at your service, but everyone calls me Scotty. I take care of the estate maintenance and pretty-much all the odd jobs. Your mother sent me to pick you up, Your Highness."

"Just call me Jim, please." Jim rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, ignoring the way Bones barely contained his amusement. "Or Lieutenant Commander, if you're more comfortable with titles. It's been a long time since I've had to deal with all this."

"Of course… sir. Ah, Lieutenant Commander. Sir." Scotty winced and waved toward the door. "The hovercar is right out front. Do you need any help with your luggage?"

Jim refrained from rolling his eyes and elbowed Bones in the ribs before the doctor let loose the chuckles he was obviously holding back.

"Nah, Bones and I are traveling light. We've got it."

Scotty glanced at Bones for the first time, surprise flickering across his face before his expression went curiously blank. The unease Jim had been wrestling with since he first got his mother's message cranked up another notch.

"Is there a problem?"

"Your mother didn't mention you'd be traveling with a… partner?"

"Bones is a colleague and a friend. He had some leave saved up and decided he wanted to check out Monarch. I tried to tell him Risa would be more fun, but he has no sense of adventure." Jim narrowed his eyes, trying hard to read the stranger. "You didn't answer my question. Is that a problem?"

"No, of course it isn't a problem. I'll just call ahead… to let the housekeeper know she'll need to make up another room."

Translation: Scotty needed to call ahead and warn Winona so she could take it into account for whatever news she was preparing to spring on Jim.

When the air car turned southeast toward Royal City's center, Jim's unease deepened into suspicion. Leaning forward, he spoke directly into Scotty's ear, making the handyman jump.

"It's been a few years since I've been home, but I'm pretty sure we have to go west to get to Enterprise."

"Er, yes. But your mother is in the city and would like to meet with you before I take you to the estate."

There was a world of questions in the things Scotty wasn't saying and Jim had a jittery feeling in the pit of his stomach. It got worse when the hovercar touched down outside the entrance of the Royal Council building.

"My mother's inside, is she?" Jim was proud his voice came out steady and even.

The way Scotty flinched and averted his eyes, though, told him he wasn't hiding his anger very well.

"Uh, yes, Your Highness… Kirk… sir. She's inside. Waiting for you…" His words stumbled to a halt. After a moment of strained silence, Scotty cleared his throat and tried to smile but it fell flat. "You can leave your bags here. I'll take care of them."

Jim's lips peeled back, but Bones shoved him out of the car before he started snarling.

"Thanks, Scotty," McCoy called over his shoulder and pushing Jim towards the building.

They stopped in the shadow of the doorway and Bones looked him over with concern. "What the Sam Hill is going on here?"

"I have no idea, but I'm getting the feeling I've been suckered by my own mother." He squared his shoulders and opened the glass door with the same enthusiasm he'd face the gates of hell. "Might as well go in and find out what she has in store for me."

Winona Kirk waited in the foyer, looking exactly like every memory he had of her. Strong, determined and beautiful. When she spotted him, her face lit up with a smile that was equal parts joy and love and she raced across the floor to sweep him up in a crushing hug.

"Jimmy! God, I've missed you." She stepped back, bracing her hands on his face to hold him steady. "You look tired. Pike isn't running you ragged, is he?"

Despite everything, he couldn't help smiling.

"Mom, I'm not ten anymore. It's Jim not Jimmy. And Pike treats me like every other Lieutenant Commander in the 'fleet gets treated. I'm not tired, I'm tense. I don't like being ambushed. I was greeted at the space port by a stranger and dropped off on the Royal Council's doorstep without a word of explanation. What's going on?"

He narrowed his eyes and tried to look stern, but nobody intimidated his mother.

"Jimm—Jim. It's Sam…" She pressed her hands against his chest, sadness clouding her eyes.

"Is he okay? The news reports said he got off Deneva long before the outbreak."

"He's fine. He did, he's safe. It's just…"

The elevator doors slid open and ancient looking attendant who'd facilitated council meetings as long as Jim could remember gave him a sour once over. 

"Prince James, you've arrived." The  _finally_ , was unspoken but heavily implied. "The rest of the Council is waiting for you."

The seneschal stepped aside and gestured for them to precede him back onto the elevator. Jim looked at his mother and mouthed 'rest of the Council?' but she shifted her gaze away and stepped into the small car.

Unwilling to face whatever waited for him, alone, Jim grabbed McCoy's arm and dragged him onto the elevator with them, despite the seneschal's disapproving glare.

The entire top floor of the building held the Royal Council Chamber. A large, semi-circular table dominated the center of the room on a raised platform. Nine chairs sat evenly spaced around the dais. Eight of them were currently occupied by the princess and princes of Monarch. The ninth, reserved for the Prince of Enterprise, sat conspicuously empty of Jim's older brother.

Benches ringed the edge of the room, where lower nobility could watch and supplicants to the Council could await their hearing. Today it was half-filled and excited whispers permeated the room when the seneschal led Jim to the podium, situated on a slightly lower platform facing the open side of the table.

Ronald, the current Prince of Exeter beamed at him from the center seat. "Ah, James. Welcome home. Despite what some people believed," he glowered at the prince of Lexington, seated on his right, "I had no doubts whatsoever that you would do the right thing. Now, would you like to address any remarks to the Council before we commence with your coronation?"

Jim knew the room hadn't really suddenly gone silent, but the buzzing in his ears drowned out everything else.

"Coronation?" he managed to choke out.

 His mother had said Sam was fine. The gossip holo said he'd left Deneva before the outbreak. Why would Jim need to take the reins of Enterprise?

"…your brother's abdication. His place needs to be filled immediately." Ronald was looking suspiciously in Winona's direction. "Didn't your mother explain?"

She flashed Ronald her infamous steel-lined smile. Even the exalted Princes of Monarch knew better than to fuck with her when they saw that particular expression.

"It's not the kind of thing one shares in a subspace transmission. I was about to explain, but we were interrupted by your summons. Since all of you were in such a hurry to get this done today."

"But Sam is okay?" Jim needed someone to answer that question. Now.

"Sam is fine, dear. He just eloped with Aurelan."

"Eloped? Then why… what does that have to do with me taking the title?"

"Nothing," Prince Ronald answered primly. "The Council does not interfere with the relationships of its members."

Behind him, his mother snorted. The arrival of an unknown farm girl-turned engineer for Starfleet as George Kirk's bride had led to gossip and many private suggestions from the Council that he consider an annulment.

"Along with the announcement of his wedding, your brother sent a formal declaration of his abdication. He, apparently, intends to settled down on some research station and—" Ronald paused to squint down at the data pad in front of him. "Ah, here it is. 'explore the viability of cultivating Terran botanical samples in low-gravity environments.' He makes it absolutely clear he has no intention of returning to Enterprise anytime soon. Nor does he have any interest in ruling the province."

Ronald looked back up at Jim with expectation, along with every other eye in the room.

"So, huh, I'm next in line, then," he said, more to stall than anything else. He glanced over his shoulder and Winona nodded encouragingly, guilt and resolve around the edges of her smile. Bones stood behind her, arms crossed tight across his chest and fierce frown darkening the room.

"I don't suppose I can take a few days to think about this?"

Every eye in the room transferred to his mother and Jim sighed with resignation and realization. "Except, I was already supposed to have several days, wasn't I?"

"I apologize for the inconvenience of this… miscommunication. However, giving the circumstances…"

"Circumstances?"

"Enterprise is on the verge of bankruptcy," Watley snarled. Ignoring Ronald's attempts to regain control, he leaned heavily across the table to glare down at Jim. "Your brother has been neglecting it for years. An absentee prince will not be an acceptable solution for Enterprise."

Prince Ronald cleared his throat, looking apologetic yet still nodding in agreement with the Prince of Lexington. "At least, not until we're assured that Enterprise is a solvent and viable province again."

Watley cleared his throat noisily and crossed his arms in contempt. "If the Kirks can no longer care for their responsibilities, then it's time to step aside for someone who can."

The prince of Lexington's eyes shifted to grace a satisfied smile on someone in the gallery.

Khan Noonien Singh, Duke of Endeavor, sat there. The irritating half-smile firmly in place while he watched the proceeding with his usual air of serene superiority that always made Jim itch to knock it out of him.

Things were beginning to make a bit more sense now. Khan's ancestors had scraped, cheated and lied for generations to scheme their way into a Dukedom. Khan, however, wasn't satisfied with that. He wanted to be a prince.

He'd tried to court Winona after George Kirk's death, but she'd sent him packing. Then he'd tried to undermine her Regency and Sam's reign with whispers and rumors and sly suggestions in political corners.

Now, it seemed, he was on the verge of succeeding. 

There was precedent. Over two hundred years ago, the Prince of Potempkin gambled his province into an exorbitant debt. He'd been stripped of his title and lands. The Council had then elevated the Duke of Yorktown to fill the empty seat. Kirk didn't think this was nearly as desperate a case as that had been, but Khan had been angling for this for a long time.

"Prince James?" Ronald called his attention gently. "I'm afraid we need to resolve this matter today."

Jim's breath came faster, his heart beating a rhythm that couldn't be healthy. Automatically, he searched for escape routes but the windows led to a several hundred foot drop and his mother stood between him and the elevator.

He was trapped. Not by the lack of viable exits. No, he was trapped by his inconsiderate brother and a mother who knew him a little too well.

Either he accepted the title, and the conditions the Council was attaching to it, or he'd hand over everything his family had built for generations to the smug bastard.

Jim forced a smile, lips peeling back painfully. "Of course. I am a Kirk. We've fought, bled and died for Monarch. I'll take my brother's place as Prince of Enterprise."

Jim's only pleasure in the entire, interminable afternoon, was watching the smile melt off Khan's face in disbelief.

#

Spock was working in his lab when he received the alert from Winona Kirk that the new prince's arrival at Enterprise was imminent. He dismissed the concern and anxiety that attempted to emerge as illogical and futile and forwarded the message to the rest of the senior staff.

Then he diligently finished entering his notes on the latest failed experiment, logged the relevant data with great care, returned the samples he'd been working on to their proper locations before painstakingly securing the lab and heading to the foyer to join the others in greeting their new prince.

In the hall, he took his place at the end of the line of fidgeting staff members. Bracing his feet, he tucked his hands into the small of his back and waited with calm stillness in an attempt to set an example of decorum for the rest.

When Mr. Scott opened the over sized door, it was Winona who entered first, pointing out various things that had changed over the years as well was all the things that had remained the same.

Her son strode several steps behind her, and Spock was stunned at how much control it took not to react. Seeing James Kirk in person for the first time was somewhat of a revelation. In the holos and stills he'd seen, the man's physical characteristics were very like the coloring, bone structure and symmetry of George Kirk.

In motion, however, he had the same explosive energy and fiery boldness that his mother displayed with every gesture. The same brash confidence in every move and the same charisma that drew every eye in the room, whether or not they had spoken.

If the expression James Kirk currently wore was anything to go by, he may have his mother's temper, as well. He followed Winona into the foyer with a stalking gait, the Royal coronet of Enterprise tucked under his arm in the same way Spock had seen many human children hold a playground ball. The prince's lips pressed into a line so tight, the edges were turning white and his blue eyes narrowed into a laser-focus on his mother.

Behind them, a tall man followed them in, then hung back next to Mr. Scott, a frown etched in place while he observed. Dr. McCoy, Kirk's unexpected guest, Spock presumed.

"Mother, stop. I don't need a tour. I grew up here." When she paused and turned to look at him, he waved the coronet at her. "Are we going to talk about this?"

"Of course, Jimmy—"

"Jim."

Winona smiled then turned, rolling her eyes when her son could no longer see her, and waved in their direction. "I just thought you might like to be introduced to the senior staff, first. Since they're here waiting to greet their new prince."

 Kirk's eyes lifted and he seemed to notice the group of people standing at varying degrees of attention against the back wall of the cavernous entryway for the first time.

"Uh, hi."

He straightened up, flashed a wide smile and started to wave with the hand holding the crown. He quickly tucked it back at his side and ducked his head with a boyish grin.

 At first glance, Kirk looked at ease, all charm and grace, but his frustration was obvious in the degree of tension along his mandible and the minute deepening of the stress lines around his eyes.

"Jim, you remember Mr. and Mrs. Walt?" The elderly gardener and housekeeper had been with the estate since before Winona had married George and Kirk greeted them with a warm smile and affectionate hugs.

"Of course, I spent half my life being chased out of the apple tree and away from the freshly polished banister by them."

"I remember," Winona rolled her eyes and moved down the line. "This is Pavel. He took over the kitchens a year or so ago."

The young chef ducked his head, cheeks stained pink. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness."

"Call me Jim, please. It's going to take me awhile to get use to the whole title thing again," he chuckled, obviously trying to set Chekov at ease.

He turned to the next person in line and shouted.

"Sulu! How the hell are you?" The two men hugged and exchanged hard thumps of recognition in that human gesture Spock had never understood. Kirk stepped back and eyed the badge that marked the young man position. "Head Ranger, now? What happened to your father?"

"He got an offer to do something he'd always wanted, so he retired and moved off-planet. In a bout of insanity, your mother promoted me."

"Now, Hikaru," Winona patted his arm maternally. "Don't be modest. There's no one who knows the Enterprise Wildlife Preserve better than you."

Finally, they took the last few steps to where Spock stood at the end of the line and Winona finished the introductions.

"And this is Spock. Sam hired him as estate manager three years ago, shortly before he left Monarch the last time."

Spock inclined his head, expecting the same charming smile and personable greeting. Kirk's expression, however, tightened and shifted into something darker and decidedly unfriendly.

"Estate manager? What the hell has he been managing? According to Watley, we're on the verge of bankruptcy."

An eyebrow arched up before Spock controlled his surprise. Apparently, Winona still had not apprised her son of all the circumstances of Enterprise's current situation. Winona caught his eye, shrugged then put a restraining hand on the prince.

"Uh, Jim, Watley is prone to exaggeration. Why don't we discuss this somewhere where we can sit down and you can see the full picture?"

All three of them looked down the line, at the various expressions of resignation and surprise gracing the faces of the rest of the staff.

"Right," Kirk murmured, frown easing slightly when he realized that particular problem was not common knowledge on the estate. "Okay. Uh, Bones…"

Kirk looked at a loss as to what to do, so Spock stepped forward.

"Mr. Scott, why don't you take the bags upstairs and then give our guest a tour of the estate house." He paused to give a stern look to the other members of the senior staff. "I'm sure the rest of you have duties that need attending to. And I'm sure I don't have to remind you that it is ill-advised to spread unsubstantiated gossip that can only bring harm to the Kirks and Enterprise."

He felt fairly confident in the discretion of the staff as they scurried off with resolute expressions.

The three of them made a silent procession to Winona's office. Once inside, she pulled out a bottle of amber-colored alcohol and poured two glasses.

"Have a seat, Jimmy, this could take a while."

This time, he didn't bother to correct her, just took the drink and slumped into the chair.

Spock sat in the seat next to him, maintaining perfect posture.

"What about him?" Kirk asked. "Doesn't he need to fortify himself with whiskey for this conversation, too?"

"I am half-Vulcan."

"Right. The ears," he waved and smirked.

Then Kirk leaned closer and tilted his head. So close that Spock could almost feel his body heat. Normally, Spock would be irritated by this kind of invasive violation of his personal space. Instead, he found himself fascinated by the intensity and consideration of the young prince's gaze.

"The other half's human, right?"

 Spock nodded in affirmation and Kirk's smile was wide and self-satisfied when he settled back into his chair.

"Thought so." He took a long sip of the amber liquor. "Okay, I'm fortified. Hit me with the worst of it. How did we get here?"

"It's not quite as drastic as Watley made it sound. We're not in debt, we simply have not been making the same kind of income as we used to. Which means our contributions to Monarch's coffers have declined, and that's beginning to make the other Provinces nervous."

"Because Enterprise has always been the most prosperous, and underwrote their less stellar phases." Jim's mouth flattened into a thin, thoughtful line. "Okay. But that still doesn't explain why we're having trouble."

Winona pursed her lips in consideration and resignation before unlocking the drawer in front of her.

"All the specifics are on this." Then she pressed a data chip across the desk toward her son. "What it boils down to is that we've experienced a great deal of bad luck over the past few years."

"Bad luck?" Kirk's disbelieving tone suggested he wasn't fooled by her delicate choice of words. "What kind of bad luck?"

Winona sighed and started to tick of the more memorable crises.

"A rock slide that cut off more than half the irrigation to the wheat fields one growing season. An unknown, particularly virulent blight that wiped out the entire crop another season. A bacteria in the water of the preserve that endangered the wildlife and forced us to close down the tours, which impacted the tourism for nearly a year."

She took a deep breath and nearly growled.

"That doesn't even start on all the mechanical malfunctions _._ Farm machinery. Mining equipment. Processing plants. Communication arrays. Pretty much every transport owned by the estate on a nearly daily basis."

Spock's attention shifted from Winona to her son during her recitation. He watched the curiosity drain away and hardened into angry comprehension.

When his mother was finished, Kirk drained the last of his drink and leaned forward to set his glass on the desk. "You're talking about sabotage?"

Winona shrugged and Spock answered, "It seems the most likely conclusion.

"Khan."

"There is no proof."

"I don't need proof to know the bastard has wanted Enterprise for decades." Kirk glared at Spock before looking back at his mother. "He isn't doing this on his own. The people of Enterprise stick together, they'd have noticed if outsiders were in places they shouldn't be to accomplish all of this. He has an accomplice in the province."

"We've come to the same conclusion Jim. Unfortunately, nothing we've done so far has flushed them out."

"Uh-huh," Kirk murmured, sounding less than convinced.

Spock expected Winona to bristle at the doubt, but she just rolled her eyes. "Your mother knows a few things about running an estate and kicking ass. Take the data, look it over. Get some rest. We'll talk about more of what we've done and what we're trying to do tomorrow."

Outside the office, Kirk placed a hand on Spock's wrist holding him back until Winona was out of sight. Then he turned, stepping up close with force and hot resolve so they were nearly nose to nose.

"I am going to get to the bottom of this, Spock. Whoever is helping Khan destroy Enterprise will pay."

Blue eyes stared hard and cold into Spock's and the heat of Kirk's skin brushed against his.

The sensation was so startling and arresting it took Spock 1.87 seconds to realize what Kirk was suggesting.

"You think I might be the saboteur?" His eyebrow arched and he stepped back to appraise the young prince. "Fascinating."


	2. Chapter 2

Breakfast was all kinds of awkward the next morning. Kirks have always done things a little differently and maintained closer relationships with the people of their province and estates than some of the other royal families on Monarch considered seemly. It was something they took pride in, convinced that the sense of family and community was part of their perennial success.

It wasn't uncommon for members of the senior staff to share meals with the family. However, Jim found eating the most delicious omelet he'd ever had side by side with the boy who'd cooked it, not to mention the gardener, the head ranger and everyone else, made it difficult to have any kind of conversation with his mother. Especially, since the main topic of the conversation he wanted to have involved the man eating with precise, deliberate movements on his left.

In between bites, the Vulcan carefully scrolled through his PADD and discussed issues and reports of importance. Jim's mother would offer her input and Spock would make a note of it before picking up his fork and taking another identically sized bite of his breakfast.

Jim's irritation grew with each repetition, until he could no longer contain it.

"In case you've forgotten, Mr. Spock, I am the prince of Enterprise, now. You might want to discuss province business with me."

"My apologies," Spock's voice was controlled and even, but the edge in it sounded more irritated than apologetic. "I sent this morning's itinerary accompanied by the relevant reports to your PADD. I assumed if you had any questions, concerns, suggestions or instructions you'd feel free to interject."

Kirk blinked and realized Spock's attention had been mostly on the PADD in front of him and he hadn't directed his remarks to anyone in particular. In fact, others around the table had chimed in when something Spock brought up had touched on their area.

"Right. Of course. It may take me a little while to get up to speed. I'll be better prepared tomorrow morning."

Jim pushed back from and stood up. The rest of the room dropped into silence and his shoulder's twitched in discomfort.

"Come on McCoy, let's go for a walk."

The doctor paused, fork halfway to his lips. "Uh, now?"

Jim ignored the twinge of guilt. McCoy was already on his third helping. "I thought I'd show you around the estate."

With a reluctant sigh, McCoy set the fork down and pushed his plate away. He looked at the cook, one of his rare, warm Southern-gentlemen smiles lighting up his face. "Breakfast was delicious, Mr. Chekov. Haven't had finer since I moved away from home for medical school."

"Call me, Pavel. And thank you, Dr. McCoy." The kid ducked his head, blush once again flaming in his cheeks. When he peeked up at Bones from under the veil of long lashes, the look would have melted the hardest heart.

Jim swallowed a groan, rolled his eyes and dragged McCoy outside.

Stomping through the gardens and into the woodlands beyond, Jim randomly chose little used trails, slowing only when he heard Leonard huffing in an effort to keep up with the pace.

"How far are you planning on dragging me, Kirk?"

"Relax, McCoy. The fresh air will do you good."

For the first time that morning, some of the tightness leached out of Jim's shoulders at the familiar banter.

"I like my air the way God intended," McCoy grumbled when he caught up to Jim. "Filtered repeatedly until it's one hundred percent free of allergens, microbes and anything else I don't want to breathe in."

For a while, Jim wandered through old haunts with little thought of direction or destination. When they followed a nearly invisible trail over a rise he was delighted to see a familiar, wide meadow. A rolling sea of red, purple and magenta flowers, filled the open spot between the trees. The sweet fragrance hovered around them and he inhaled the scent of his childhood.

Jim plopped down on the grass, pulling his knees up and grinning up at McCoy.

"This was always my favorite place to sulk when I was a kid."

He patted the ground next to him. Bones rolled his eyes and folded himself with a few pops and groans until he settled beside Jim.

They sat in companionable silence for awhile until McCoy started to fidget.

"A field of flowers doesn't seem like your stomping ground. I imagined you more racing across the lake or through the woods on some fast, unsafe transport."

Jim chuckled and nodded.

"Did that, too. A lot. But, see, no one ever looked for me here. Except Sam. Enterprise makes its profit in the unique wheat hybrid and in the ore from the mines. This flower, though, is our most precious resource."

"Oh?"

" _Papaver monarcha._ The Monarch poppy. They only grow on Monarch."

McCoy frowned, deep lines scrunching his forehead. "That sounds familiar."

"Probably. The flower has been used in a tea on Monarch for centuries to speed healing and recovery for a ton of diseases and ailments." Jim thought of a few late night parties not far from here. "Teenagers have been known to throw the dried leaves in a fire. The smoke gives a minor buzz with no hangover and no addiction."

"I read several papers on it in med school. Then the research just… stopped."

"You can thank Khan's family for that. About forty years ago, their bio-tech corporation started buying up every petal it could get its hands on in an attempt to corner the market on the research. The other provinces were idiots who provided truckloads without a thought about to conservation." A sharp stab of nostalgia hit him in the gut. "Those were Sam's words, by the way."

"You guys preserved some?"

"Enterprise has always prided itself on ensuring the profit of our natural resources comes back to our people. We never sold him a single stem. Eventually, the only poppies left were ours. Sam's first act after his coronation when he turned sixteen was to declare the flower endangered in the province. It's illegal to sell it or do research on. Technically, it's illegal to even pick it, but mostly we look the other way when a local plucks one or two for an ailment."

"Or a teenager for… personal use?" McCoy asked with an upturned quirk of his lips.

"Shh… That's a secret," he smirked and flopped back, cradling his head in hands and staring up at the clear sky.

"So, what was that all about this morning with you and the Vulcan?"

"Half-Vulcan," Jim growled. "The pointy eared bastard is half-human."

"Well, that explains the edge of irritation I detected. Usually, Vulcans just get more and more bland." McCoy paused and gave him that assessing look that meant he was about to say something Jim wouldn't like. "'Course. You're not usually so surly, either. Usually, you kill 'em with humor and charm. You save the cutting barbs for the scavengers and pirates."

"I don't trust him."

"Yeah, got that. Why?"

"He's hiding something."

"What?"

"I don't know," he sat up, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "It's just a gut feeling. All that Vulcan logic is covering something up."

Bones hummed noncommittally and Jim glared out at the flowers. He knew exactly what his friend was thinking. Spock's cool control was exactly the kind of thing that drew him like a moth to a flame. The kind of thing that made Jim want to push in there, get in under the skin, muss him up and crack him open.

He had to admit, the thought of Spock mussed and debauched was an enticing one.

But Jim didn't trust him and, until he figured out what the Vulcan was hiding, he wasn't going to let his guard down.

Staring gloomily out at the flowers, he ignored McCoy's judging silence. The longer he stared, the more what he saw wasn't adding up.

"Goddamn it," he snarled, pushing up to his feet.

"What? What's wrong?"

"There aren't enough flowers. There was twice as much here last time. It's been thinned so methodically, it's barely noticeable. Probably a little at a time so nobody who sees it on a regular basis would even notice."

"Well, you said there's sabotage. Maybe this is part of it?"

"It wasn't in the data I got." He turned on his heel and started stomping back toward the estate house.

Behind him, he heard the scrabbling and groans of Bones getting up.

#

The silence of his lab was a soothing balm after the contentious breakfast. Unfortunately, double-checking the data from his most recent experiment was not offering any new insights.

He was missing something. He knew he was close to a breakthrough, but he just couldn't quite make the connections that would allow him to move on to the next phase of his research.

Shouting in the hallway outside his door shattered his solitude and dragged his attention away. When the noise did not dissipate, he closed the secure file on his PADD, gave the lab a once over to be sure no obvious signs of his research would be seen from the doorway then stepped into the hall to find out what the commotion was about.

It was with only mild surprise he found Winona and her son yelling at each other outside her office door.

"There was no way you didn't notice," Kirk shouted, one arm gesturing widely. "Why isn't it on the data chip?"

Winona's chin jutted up, her eyes flinty and narrow. "Jim, you may be prince now, but I'm still your mother. You will not shout at me like I'm some fumbling Ensign fresh out of the Academy."

The Kirks stood, squared off and anger vibrating between them. Spock shouldn't be so intrigued by the volatile display of emotion, but, for 2.9 seconds he found himself watching raptly and cataloging every flex of muscle and twitch of flesh that eloquently declared everything they felt.

If Spock found his attention more focused on the younger Kirk, it was simply because he was already familiar with Winona's micro-expressions.

"And I'm not twelve years old anymore," Jim shouted back. "I'm not willing to be put off without explanations. You dragged me back here to take the reins so you're going to have to accept that I'll be asking questions, whether you want to answer them or not."

The shouting continued and Spock realized the argument likely would not end without outside interference. He made sure his lab door was closed and the bio-lock engaged then stepped forward, clearing his throat to gain the combatants attention.

Two sets of blue eyes, hot and bright with anger turned to glare at him. Tucking his hands behind his back, he tilted his head slightly.

"Is there a problem?" He kept his voice even and mild, but it did not seem to sooth either of the Kirks.

Winona huffed. "Jimmy noticed the poppies have been thinned out. We apparently  _forgot,"_ she stressed the word, giving Spock a significant look, "to include that among the various incident reports we compiled for him."

Spock stiffened, his body tight with the guilt and fear trying to shimmy past his training. Calmly, he redirected the unwanted emotions, though he could not quite negate their effect on his physiology. His muscles remained stiff and his pulse remained elevated at 2.87 percent above normal. As there was nothing to be done about it, he ignored the anomaly and focused on the deception Winona seemed to be suggesting.

"My apologies, Your Highness. There were many incidents to attempt to condense into a concise report. I could have made a mistake while recording the data."

All the statements were entirely true. He  _could_ have made a mistake. It was highly unlikely but it was possible. The omission of the poppy data, however was not a mistake.

"Jim," the prince corrected automatically. "I thought Vulcans didn't make mistakes?"

"That is a widely held misconception. Logic and methodical approach to all tasks make it less probable but it is still possible."

Kirk continued to scrutinize him, looking, no doubt for any signs of deception. Spock kept his face neutral and did not look away from the inspection. When Kirk didn't find what he was looking for, he turned back to his mother.

"Why didn't you inform Sam of any of this?"

Her expression softened into wistful sadness. "We did, dear. He received dispatches every month."

"Bullshit. If he knew about the poppies, he'd have been back here on the first transport he could find."

Winona winced, her eyes dropping to the ground. "Sam stopped reading the dispatches a long time ago. He stopped acting as Enterprise's prince the day he left Monarch. After awhile, I gave up trying to nag him into being a leader."

Pain and anger drained the color out of Kirk's face and his voice dropped into a dull rasp. "Instead, you tricked me into taking the title he finally escaped."

"Jimmy, I—" Winona's voice broke, her eyes welling with tears.

"Don't, Mother. I can't. Not now."

He turned his angry glare on Spock. "What do you know about all of this?"

Spock chose his words carefully. The conversation was skirting too close things that should not be brought out into the open.

"I am aware that the wild Monarch poppy population has declined by twenty-three percent in the 3.2 years of my tenure at Enterprise."

"Three years?" The anger slipped out of Kirk's eyes, replaced by a calculating glint. "How long have the other 'incidents' been occurring?"

"We've traced a consistent pattern back 2.9 years, though there some outlying incidents that go back at least a decade.

"So. Three years. The same time Sam left Monarch. The same time you were hired."

The implication hung between them and Spock's eyes widened in surprise before he wrestled the insulted outrage back into submission.

"James Tiberius Kirk!" Winona, as mercurial as her son, shoved between them her guilt forgotten in her indignation. "Spock has no reason to sabotage Enterprise."

"No. We know it's Khan who covets Enterprise and its crown. But it wouldn't hurt to have an inside man."

Spock kept his expression impassive and unfazed. Deep within, the human side that fought the imprisonment of its natural reaction wanted to rage and defend Spock from the accusation. Years of training, however, along with the painful knowledge that he _was_ keeping a secret from the young prince kept him silent and still.

"Spock wouldn't. He's done everything he can to mitigate the damage. Without him, Enterprise would be in much worse shape."

"Okay, Mom, maybe I'm being paranoid." Kirk shrugged with seeming acceptance but he continued to study Spock with unwavering scrutiny. "I'm going to bring Khan down, one way or another, though. Anyone who's working with him is going to get rolled over in the process."

#

An hour later, Jim stood staring out the window of his childhood bedroom, nerves still thrumming from the morning's confrontation with his mother and the dubious estate manager. The rushing need to get to the bottom of Enterprise's troubles had become a consuming obsession. If he tied the problems to Khan, he'd kill two birds with one stone. Bringing Khan to justice would mean there wouldn't be anyone pushing the Council to take over his crown. Proving sabotage, not an absentee leader, was the province's problem would mean he'd be able to return to his ship without handing over his heritage.

While he stared morosely down at the driveway below, Spock exited the kitchen door and spoke briefly to Scotty before getting into one of the all-terrain vehicles and driving away.

Spock was a quandary. Winona Kirk was smart, tough and an excellent judge of character. As far as Jim knew, no one had ever successfully fooled her for long. She'd been working side by side with the estate manager for three years and she was convinced he was trustworthy. Yet, Jim's own instincts had never let him down, and they were screaming that something wasn't right. There was a secret the Vulcan was keeping.

Of course, a different, yet equally dependable set of instincts kept trying to override the suspicions and get Kirk closer to the hot, fit body. To smile and flirt and do everything possible to see how far that vaunted Vulcan control could be pushed.

Now was as good a time as any to find out what Spock was hiding, since his mother had left shortly after their fight to go visit a neighbor. With a devilish grin, he dashed out of his room, taking the stairs two at a time. He headed straight to the corridor that held his mother's office and the lab Sam had used as a teenager. Back then, though, there hadn't been a lock on the door at all. Certainly not anything like the shiny new bio-metric security system Jim had noticed Spock was careful to secure.

He placed his hand over the scanner and waited for the beep that would precede the door opening.

Instead, the computer's inflectionless feminine voice denied him entry while he stared at the stubbornly closed door. "Unrecognized authorization. Access denied."

"What the hell? I'm the fucking prince. This is my estate." He pressed the override button below the hand scanner and raised his voice. "Computer, override. Authorization Kirk-alpha-alpha-three-zero-five."

"Unrecognized authorization. Access denied."

"Goddamn it," he cursed and kicked the steel door. He knew the security computer didn't really sound smug but it irritated him anyway.

Then Scotty turned the corner, attention buried in the PADD in front of him and muttering to himself.

"Mr. Scott. Just the person I needed."

Scotty startled at the sound of his name, looked up and glanced around for a second, as if figuring out where exactly he was. When he realized what door Jim stood in front of, his eyes went wide and his face paled. The reaction made Jim wary and alert.

"Uh, what can I doing for ya'?"

"I seem to be locked out of this room, can you get me in?"

Scotty blinked and stared at the closed door as if it were a snake preparing to strike. Jim waited, not breaking the silence. Instead, he let it spin out to see exactly what the engineer would do. Apparently, there was more to whatever was going on than just Spock's secrets.

"Er, well, your biometrics have been entered into security. You should have access to every room on the estate."

"And, yet, the door is still closed." He waved at the offending barrier, trying to look annoyed but not suspicious.

"It could be a glitch in the interface protocol," Scotty ducked his head and began tapping randomly on his PADD. "Or maybe the security system isn't recognizing the room as part of the estate. I'll look into. Right away."

Amused despite himself at how bad a liar the engineer was, Jim watched Scotty backpedal out of the hall, carefully avoiding any eye contact at all. When he got to the cross corridor and started turn down it, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder, still looking like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"It, uh, might take a few hours. Or days. Maybe. I'll get right on it, though. Let me know if you have trouble with any other rooms."

Then he disappeared around the corner.

Yeah, something hinky was going on in Enterprise. Jim was going to get to the bottom of it.

Since the lab was out of reach, for now, Jim decided to track done Bones and see if he wanted to help with plan B.

Eventually, Jim found McCoy in the kitchen flirting with the cook.

"Hey, I've been looking all over for you."

McCoy gave him a dark glare when Chekov shifted away and bent his head to focus on the delicious smelling something in front of him.

"Well, you've found me."

"I was wondering if you wanted to go explore the preserve?"

He didn't mention wanting to take a look at the other poppy meadows. The young cook looked harmless enough, but Jim was now wary of any of Enterprise's newer residents.

"Be serious. I had my outdoor quota for the day when you dragged me through the woods this morning."

"C'mon, Bones."

His wheedling just got him a sour look.

"You should take Hikaru," Chekov's said, breaking into their stare down with the cheerful suggestion. "He knows the preserve better than anyone."

Jim nodded. It was actually a good idea. Sulu had had the run of the preserve since he could toddle. He'd know exactly what was going on and what was out of the ordinary. Not to mention, his family had been part of Enterprise since the first colony ship landed.

"Good idea," he snitched a finger-full of the bowls contents and moaned. "That is phenomenal. Please tell me whatever it is, it's for dinner."

"Da."

"Awesome," he flashed his best smile and got a faint blush in return. Along with another dark look from McCoy that made him grin wider. "I'll see you both later.

#

The ranger's cottage was just as Jim remembered. Quaint, well-kept and homey. Especially considering that it stood in the shadow of the estate's garage/barn/work-shop which was nearly three times the bigger than the small house.

"If I call you 'Your Highness' am I gonna' get the eye-roll?" Sulu called from the open bay of the garage.

"For an old friend like you? Nah. You'll get a smack to the back of the head."

He met his Sulu half-way with a hand shake and back-patting hug.

"It's good to see you living the dream," Kirk said when he stepped back.

"Yeah, well, when my dad had the chance to work with the Inter-Planetary Conservation Society, he jumped at it. Which means I got my dream job about a decade ahead of schedule. And you got two generations of the best damn head rangers available. Everybody wins."

After a few minutes of catching up, Sulu finally asked, "What brings you to my door on your second day as our lord and commander?"

"I don't need the second-best ranger in the Confederation so bad that I won't demote you for insubordination," Jim smirked, but the expression morphed into a frown when he remembered his purpose. "Mom's told me about some of the stuff that's been going on. I was hoping you'd take me around to see some of sites for myself."

The humor slipped away from Sulu's eyes, and his jaw set.

"Poachers. Bacteria tainting one of the waterholes. Illegal logging. If I ever catch the bastard…" he stopped his rant and took a deep breath. "Where do you want to go first?"

"I'll let the expert guide lead the way."

Sulu grinned and waved at the ATV. "Get on. I should warn you, though, Scotty fixed her up after one of the 'accidents' and she's got a little extra kick."

Two hours later, they'd been to the three spots closest to the estate and Hikaru had grown grimmer and grimmer with each new stop. Kirk realized quickly that there was nothing left to learn that wasn't already in the reports he'd read. There was no point in dragging his friend all over the preserve. Even if the breakneck speed of the ATV gave him a rush he'd been missing for awhile.

"Okay, I think I've seen enough. I want to check in with the head of the Farmers Guild and discuss the problems they've been having. First, though, how about we ride over to that poppy field by the lake?"

"Poppy field?" Sulu froze, his expression not unlike Scotty's had been in the corridor outside the lab earlier. Then he blinked and his easy-going smile slid back into place. "Why? I thought the flower stuff was Sam's thing."

What the hell was going on here? He'd known Sulu his whole life. The ranger's anger and sadness at what had happened in the preserve was genuine, Jim would bet his life on it. So what was everyone keeping from him about the damn flowers?

He still hadn't figured it out by the time Sulu pulled the ATV into a cleared spot where the trail gave way to the first scattered flowers. Two other ATVs already took up half of the makeshift parking spot. Jim was instantly on alert, eyes scanning until he caught sight of two people leaning together against the farthest ATV, heads close together as they shared a data pad.

He didn't recognize the woman but she was gorgeous. Dark hair, dark skin and long legs. He did, however recognize the pale skin, strong build and curved ears of the man next to her.

Jim was out of the ATV in a second and striding toward the pair. He didn't know what he intended to do, or why he was so intent on doing it  _right now_ , he was just hell bent on finding out what Spock was up to.

Years of practicing kept him from examining his own motives too closely.

#

Spock heard the sound of the approaching vehicle before it came into sight and his body tensed, alert for any problems. When he recognized the distinctive sounds made by Mr. Scott's modification to Mr. Sulu's ATV, he allowed the majority of his focus to return to Nyota's question.

As soon as the vehicle pulled into view however, it was obvious that the head ranger was not alone. The sight of Kirk should not have pushed his autonomic response back into full alert. The prince was not a physical threat. Yet Spock's body primed for physical action and his senses followed the man's every move when he got off of the ATV and strode toward them.

The wide, charismatic grin stretched across his face, brightening his eyes and inviting everyone around him to share some secret joke. The smile, however, was directed at Nyota.

Kirk only acknowledged him with a quick nod and murmured, "Mr. Spock."

Then all that charm was directed full force at the woman to his right. "And this is?"

Irritation bloomed briefly at the quick dismissal but Spock swept it away with a mental shrug before it took root.

"Uhura," Nyota answered with a clipped tone before Spock or Sulu could introduce them.

"Uhura? Is that a first name or last?"

"It's how I would prefer to be addressed, Your Highness."

Kirk winced, an expression that flashed so fast Spock was sure no one else had noticed the brief interruption of the prince's relaxed smile. It was not the first time Spock had observed how uncomfortable Kirk seemed to be with formal acknowledgment of his title.

"Call me Jim, please," Kirk encouraged, leaning closer and offering his hand.

Nyota took the hand, but kept the handshake brief and professional before shifting away. "I prefer formality with nobility, Your Highness."

This time his irritation lingered slightly longer and Spock detected another, deeper emotion underlying it. He could almost feel sorry for Kirk. If Vulcan's indulge in pity, that is.

Kirk kept up the flirting tone but his eyes sharpened. "You disapprove of nobility, then?"

"I don't make blanket judgments. The Kirks have a better track record of being closer and more responsive to the people of their province than other princes. Lately, however, your brother, and you, have shown a shameful lack of interest in your responsibilities. Since you're back, I'm willing to reconsider my opinion, but no amount of false charm or handsome smiles are going to sway me."

Nyota turned to put her PADD away and Spock's lips twitched at the surprise suffusing Kirks face at her casual dismissal.

"Thank you for the help, Spock. This will make it easier to plan the field trip for the kids. I'll contact you in a few days to finalize the details."

Spock inclined his head in respect. "I look forward to it."

She smiled at him then waved to Sulu, who had paused to take a call on his communicator, before climbing into her own ATV and driving away.

Kirk watched her go, eyes never leaving her and the scrutiny made Spock uncomfortable for some reason.

"Well," Kirk exhaled when she was gone from sight. "At least she thought I had a nice smile." The grin he flashed held less of the calculated charm and more self-depreciating humor. "What do you think, Spock?"

Spock blinked in surprise that Kirk tacitly invited him to share in the joke. Up till now, the prince had kept a suspicion-filled distance between.

Spock raised one eye brow, allowing three full seconds to tick by before answering dryly, "Well, you  _do_  have even teeth and symmetrical lips."

Kirk threw back his head and laugh, the sound real and relaxed and unlike anything Spock had heard from him. He swallowed hard, admitting to himself all those little anomalies he'd experienced over the past twenty-fours were desire.

James Kirk was objectively attractive. Combined with the energy, sense of purpose, intelligence and humor, he was very much the type of person Spock would find compatible. Except, of course, he was also impulsive, impatient, and prone to all-to-human eruptions of emotion. Despite those imperfections, or perhaps in some perverse way, because of them, Spock was intrigued by him.

Unfortunately, Kirk was also his nominal boss. He was prince of Enterprise, and Spock was knowingly and willingly breaking the law within that province.

"Hey, Kirk," Sulu's approach interrupted Spock's revelation. "Sorry. I've got reports of possible poacher activity in the delta quadrant of the preserve. I've got to get over there."

"It's fine. Go. Poachers are way more important. I'll get another ride to the Farmer's Guild."

"I can take you," Spock offered while they watched Sulu tear away in the enhanced ATV.

It was, perhaps, not the best course of action. He should return to the house and meditate until he was sure he could keep his new-found attraction in check. However, Kirk's aloofness with him was abating and he knew, for his own project, as well as for Winona's peace of mind, he should attempt to continue the trend.

Just because his body hummed with the man's nearness and his human side was, perhaps, over-invested as well, it did not negate the logic of the course of action.

"Yeah, great, that'd be good."

Kirk settled into the passenger seat, sprawling in such a way that he managed to take up much more room than one would expect. His arm, thrown over the back of the seat, left his fingers almost brushing Spock's shoulder, and Spock knew he had only to shift a couple of inches in order to touch Kirk.

Instead of giving into the illogical, and inappropriate, urge to move closer, Spock held himself stiff and silent while Kirk prattled on beside him. The prince pointed out things that had changed and things that remained the same. He told improbable stories and anecdotes and occasionally lapsed into silence seemingly overcome by nostalgia.

After one such quiet interlude, Kirk surprised him with an abrupt change of subject.

"So, who exactly is the lovely Uhura, anyway?" Kirk was still staring out at the passing scenery but he was too tight with attention for the question to be as casual as he was pretending.

A shiver of jealousy was quickly dismissed, but Spock's answer may have been a tad too sharp anyway.

"She's a highly regarded teacher and administrator at the local school."

Kirk smiled and held up his hands, fingers brushing briefly against Spock with the movement.

"Hey, relax. Not intending to make a move on your lady. Just curious."

Spock kept his eyes focused on the road and concentrated on his breathing. It wasn't quite as good as meditation but it would have to do for the moment.

"She is not  _my_  lady. She is a friend and a colleague. She is organizing a multi-disciplinary trip around the province so the students can learn about the history, environment and culture of Enterprise. I have been helping her plan it."

"I see," Kirk murmured but the tone seemed unconvinced.

Before Spock could decide if it was worthwhile attempting to change the prince's incorrect perception, they entered the town of Baris. The largest community in Enterprise, it was situated in the heart the province's main agriculture center.

The Farmer's Guild headquarters was a squat, two story cube building. The first floor was dominated by a large, open area used for general meetings as well as a variety of community events. The second floor housed all of the offices and was where they found the director of the guild working.

The man's office over-flowed with paper maps, leather-bound books and actual, old-fashioned file cabinets. Interspersed were mechanical components in various states of repair. The room had a musty smell of old paper and older oil.

The director was tall and thin. His shirt and khaki's were neatly pressed but spotted with occasional streaks of grease.

"Your Highness," the director greeted in a squeaky voice, looking slightly wild eyes as he attempted to straighten the nearest stack of books and papers. "What an unexpected surprise. I didn't anticipate a visit so soon after your return."

He sighed and abandoned his attempt to bring some kind of order to the room. "I apologize for the mess. The last Guild president believed that information didn't really exist unless it was written down somewhere. He was convinced that someday all the electronic data would just disappear and he'd be the only one prepared. I'm still trying to sort through it all."

He blushed and cleared gears and motors off the room's only two chairs.

"The ancient farm machine components are my fault, however. A hobby." He pulled out clean cushions to cover the oil remnants. "Have a seat, please, Your Highness."

"Call me, Jim," Kirk sat without a second thought in the chair.

Spock closed his eyes briefly in resignation and sat in the other one, unable to refuse once the prince had taken a seat.

"And what was your name, Director…?"

"Darvin. Uh, Arne Darvin."

It was obvious from the fluttering hands and occasional verbal stutter that the Guild Director was extremely nervous in the presence of his prince. As always, though, Kirk's easy charm was starting to put the man at ease.

"Darvin? That's familiar. Your family's been farming in Enterprise for generations."

"Yes, we have. I tried to escape it for while. Went off planet, got a degree in botany and biology. Eventually, though, the lure of farming called me back and here I am."

"Botany? Perfect. Maybe you can answer some questions I have about the blight that destroyed the wheat crop a couple of years ago."

Kirk spent the next hour questioning Darvin about the wheat yields, irrigation issues and machinery failures, but the man had little to add to the reports they'd already compiled.

Once back in the vehicle, Kirk dropped his head back against the seat and sighed.

"Well, that wasn't very helpful. You had more information on the data chip." He twisted to look at Spock through the veil of long dark lashes.

"Have we got time to make it to any of the mining communities?"

"We could, but we would miss dinner."

Kirk pursed his lips and shook his head.

"Nah. Pavel's making something that smells amazing. Not missing that to stare at some rocks and dust. I'll go tomorrow."


	3. Chapter 3

Two days later, Jim remained in the dark about everything. He'd been to more flower meadows, mining communities, talked to more farmers and rangers and estate staff and even the handful of fisherman who worked Lake Enterprise but nothing new had come to light.

The incidents were random. No rhyme or reason or schedule he'd been able to ascertain. There were never any witnesses, never any evidence of tampering or concrete proof it was anything but a natural occurrence.

It  _could_  have been a string of really bad luck, but Jim didn't think anyone was that unlucky. The visits and conversations, while unproductive, had at least convinced him that whatever was going on with poppies, it had nothing to do with all the sabotage. Too many people were flat out furious about the vandalism and so-called accidents only to get all stiff and shifty when the flowers came up.

Including his own mother.

Spock and that damn lab were at the center of it. Jim just couldn't figure out what was so horrible, his entire senior staff felt the need to lie and cover it up.

Had the Vulcan somehow convinced Winona and the others to sell part of the poppy harvest? What was in it for him? Or any of them?

After only a few days of spending time with Spock, he couldn't believe he was in it for some kind of personal financial gain. The Vulcan was honest to a fault, sometimes insultingly so. He also had a dry sense of humor that Jim had almost missed in the beginning. Now, though, those wry observations, coupled with a glance or an arched eyebrow or the almost invisible up-tilt of lips invited Jim in on the joke.

Of course, his willingness to give Spock the benefit of the doubt had nothing to do with the ridiculously strong desire he had to map all that pale, perfectly tone muscle with his hands. Or his tongue. No matter what Bones silently implied with sardonic looks every time Jim ranted about Spock, he did know how to separate his libido from his instincts.

If the Vulcan wasn't doing it for himself, the next obvious conclusion was he must be funneling the money back into the estate and the province. But Jim had been over the books and accounts twice and found no sign of illegal revenue from the poppies being channeled back in.

All Jim knew for sure was that poppies were missing, his staff knew why and at least some of the answers were behind the locked lab door.

So he stood in front of it, his PADD hooked into the lock while the rest of the household ate breakfast. The security protocols were very, very good. But they weren't better than Jim when he put his mind to it. It took nearly thirty minutes, but, finally, the computer beeped and the door slid open.

Knowing he didn't have much time before breakfast was over, he scooted inside. The lab itself looked similar to the way he remembered it from his childhood. Steel work-counter, a variety of machines he couldn't name and several stasis units lining the walls. Most of the equipment, however, had been updated. Expenses Jim was sure hadn't been on the accounts he'd gone over with a fine-tooth comb.

The counters and work areas were completely clean and offered no clue as to what happened in the locked room. Spock's ever present PADD was not in the lab. No doubt, it sat on the breakfast table at the Vulcan's elbow. The single computer terminal refused to spill its contents without a password and Jim knew he didn't have time to crack it. The only things left were the stasis units.

He hit the jackpot on the first one he opened. Inside, he found sheet after sheet of preserved Monarch poppies. The second unit held vials all neatly labeled in Vulcan script.

"God damn it, Spock, what are you up to?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Jimmy."

He spun on his heel to find his mother in the doorway, hands on hips and glaring hotly.

"What the hell is going on, Mom?" he demanded, refusing to be put off by her anger. She was harboring a felon under her own roof.

"Jim, it's really not any of your business. Let it go."

 Spock appeared at his mother's shoulder and it was the first time he'd seen the man show more than a faint hint of what he was feeling. Now, though, those dark eyes were wide and his mouth pulled down in an uncertain frown. His muscles twitched as he fidgeted slightly in the doorway.

Probably to anyone who hadn't spent the past two days cataloging every one of Spock's expression, his surprise and guilt still wouldn't have been notable. But Jim had been watching him closely.

"Not my business? He has a unit full of flowers over there. Flowers that are endangered by proclamation of the previous prince of Enterprise. It's illegal to pick them, let alone experiment with them. And, oh yeah, there's a unit full of proof that he did that, as well."

Jim took a deep breath and Spock stepped forward, shifting past Winona's attempts to shield him.

He stood in the same, stiff posture he'd assumed when Jim had first met him. Legs braced wide, hands clasped tight behind his back, and his face hidden behind the cold, implacable mask.

For a second, Jim's anger slipped away as the companionable rapport that had built over the past couple of days disappeared in a blink.

"I take full responsibility for all of my actions and am ready to face prosecution."

The admission hit Jim in the gut and rekindled his anger into an inferno. Before he could start in on his outrage, however, Winona put herself firmly between him and Spock.

"What Spock did wasn't illegal. He had official dispensation."

Jim stopped short and blinked at his mother. "Sam gave him an exception?"

"Not exactly." Her eyes lost some of their righteous spark and slid slightly to Jim's right. "I gave him permission to conduct research on the poppies."

"Even with the power to make decisions Sam gave you when he left Monarch, you can't countermand a Royal proclamation. Why would you do that?"

She shrugged and met his eyes again. "Because it insulated him from prosecution if anyone found out. I figured your brother wouldn't send me to jail."

"But you think I would?" When she just tilted her head and smirked at him, the last of his fury faded and he nodded. "Okay, maybe. I wouldn't have left you there, though."

He looked past her to Spock, whose blank expression had shifted into a perplexed frown, and the dark eyes still moved between Jim and Winona, like they were some kind of math problem he could solve. At least some of the painfully rigid tension had seeped out of the Vulcan's stance.

Jim felt his own curl of relief but there were still questions he needed answers to.

"So, then, why? What were you doing with the flowers that was worth the risk?"

Spock cleared his throat. "They have an unprecedented healing property that has remained largely unexplored."

"Well, yeah, but…"

It hit him then. Three and a half years ago, the Kelvin had been dispatched to the Vulcan homeworld for humanitarian aid.

"The Vulcan-Romulan Plague. You want to cure it."

Spock inclined his head, but not before Jim caught a glimpse of pain and longing.

"That is the ultimate goal, yes. Though anything I can find to help ease the suffering or slow the disease will be beneficial."

"Okay," Jim nodded, already thinking about what he could do, what resources he could divert to help. "Mom, dig out that dispensation and I'll sign it. Make everything nice and legal. This place would fall apart if you two went to jail. Not to mention Scotty and Sulu and whoever else you had running me in circles."

His mother laughed, leaned up to kiss him on the cheek and hustled out of the room. Spock watched her go, expression clouded and faintly confused. Jim smiled and stepped closer, laying a hand on the Vulcan's shoulder in an effort to reassure him.

#

Spock watched Winona leave, a mass of unexpected emotions boiling in him that he couldn't quite slot into their places with his usual ease.

Then Kirk placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. The warmth and strength was both calming and stimulating. An odd mix that Spock had never experienced simultaneously. Interesting.

Focusing on it allowed him to finally bring himself back under control and he met Kirk's gaze.

 "I apologize for the deception. It was the general belief that, while you did not have your brother's passion for conservation, this was one area you whole-heartedly agreed with him on. Discretion seemed the logical course."

Kirk squeezed his shoulder again. "I did, do, agree with Sam. The poppy is an important part of your culture, our history and our environment. But a planet full of people is more important than a few meadows of flowers. Especially since you've proven you can preserve the population while conducting your research. Unlike Khan, you managed to get what you need without stripping the land bare."

"Indeed. Khan's approach to all of his business seems focused on short-term profit over long-term sustainability. I would never make that mistake with Enterprise's resources."

"Good, so I'll let you get to work."

Kirk patted his shoulder one more time before moving away. Spock knew it was ridiculous to feel bereft by the lack of the man's touch, so he stifled the illogical impulse to follow the prince when he moved out of Spock's personal space.

"Oh," Kirk paused in the door. "I'll send Bones down. He's a pretty good doctor and he worked with the Vulcan healers for the month or so the Kelvin was there."

Spock was aware of Dr. McCoy's reputation and work. He'd done a background check as soon as Mr. Scott had informed him Kirk had brought home a guest. Leonard McCoy had been a highly regarded physician, surgeon and medical researcher before his divorce and subsequent joining of the Terran Starfleet. He was also instrumental in developing the initial treatment that had slowed the progress of the plague. Spock had considered asking for his aid but secrecy had been paramount.

Still, Kirk's assumption that McCoy would want to help seemed presumptive.

"Shouldn't you ask him first?"

"Nah. He'll grumble and snarl but he won't be able to resist. He's been re-reading the papers Khan's bio-tech firm put out on the poppy and muttering about their shoddy methods."

"I have to agree with him. Despite the wealth of data they produced, I was forced to start from scratch. Their data was unreliable and their conclusions faulty."

Once Kirk was gone, Spock allowed himself to sink onto the stool. This was not the outcome he expected of having been found out. He'd expected prison or dismissal and exile from Monarch, at best. Instead, Kirk had given his permission to continue. Had offered resources and the skills of his friend.

Humans were a mercurial and unknowable species.

Yet Spock wanted to know James Kirk.

#

Two weeks of working with Dr. McCoy resulted in a great deal of progress Spock would not have made on his own. They had not discovered a cure yet, but the advances they had made gave him confidence that it was only a matter of time.

Jim had stepped in to shoulder much of Spock's usual responsibilities, helping Winona oversee the estate while Spock and McCoy focused their efforts in the lab.

Still, there was a lot of work to be done. Impatiently, Spock pushed his food around his plate, waiting for the doctor to finish his breakfast and daily flirtation with Mr. Chekov.

While he waited, Spock's eye's settled on the prince. An illogical habit that had become all too common in the past few days. Jim made a joke at Bones expense and Spock fixated on his smile. The stretch of his lips. The brief hint of his tongue moving behind his teeth. The crinkle of his eyes, the tilt of his head. The way his shoulders stretched and flexed when he leaned back in his chair.

"Almost ready to head for the lab?"

Spock blinked, forcing his attention back to McCoy, who had, at some point, finished his meal and now stood next to Spock.

"Yes, of course."

Spock pushed his still full plate away and stood up.

McCoy frowned down at the uneaten meal. "Don't you want to finish your breakfast?"

Food had been tasteless and unappealing to him for the past few days, and the idea of taking a bite turned his stomach. Refusing sustenance because one 'did not feel like it' was illogical, however, so he shrugged and moved toward the door.

"I will eat at a later time. There is much to do in the lab, today and I am ready to resume our research."

McCoy transferred his frown to Spock, but said nothing.

In the lab, Spock sat down at the work table and stared blankly for several seconds at the gleaming surface, momentarily at a loss. Groping for his extensive training, he forced his mind to focus, picked up his PADD and opened the relevant files.

He lost himself in reports and data and numbers until an irritating, rhythmic drumming broke his concentration.

"Would you stop that infernal tapping, Doctor?" he snapped, voice almost a growl.

McCoy looked up from his own PADD in surprise. "Tapping?"

"Yes, tapping…" Spock trailed off, observing that the doctor held his pad with both hands, fingers completely still. Then he followed McCoy's gaze to where his own pale fingers rested on the work table, still clicking out the irritating rhythm.

He stared at his hand in confusion, as if the appendage belonged to someone else.

"So, how long have you been experiencing the symptoms of Pon Farr?"

"How dare you?" Spock snarled, surging to his feet and pushing threateningly close to McCoy. "Outworlders know nothing of Pon Farr."

McCoy raised his hands, palms out, but stood his ground. "I know you've been restless, distracted and unusually snippy for the past couple of days. You've barely eaten and if you do any more woolgathering, you could knit a sweater."

Spock stared, unblinking at the doctor while he processed the logic of the observation. Then he sat down hard on the chair behind him.

"How do you know of our most deeply held secret?"

"While I was on Vulcan, they were forced to give us access to a great deal of medical information, despite their reluctance. Along with work on the initial plague treatments, they had a small group of us work on a serum to alleviate the fatal side effects of Pon Farr. With so many bond mates lost, the Elders feared an even greater loss when the survivors approached their time."

"I see," Spock said, though he felt more stunned than enlightened.

McCoy gave him a few minutes to gather himself before asking softly, "Do you have someone to… to help you through it?"

Spock considered denying it all. Refuting the doctor's diagnosis and hiding the truth from himself, as well as everyone else. But denial was illogical.

"I… did. Her name was T'Pring. She died in the first wave of the plague's casualties."

"I'm sorry for your loss," McCoy patted his shoulder awkwardly. "Is there anyone else?"

Blue eyes, laughing smile, strong hands. He pushed the images away and shook his head. "No. No one."

He caught the pitying look that crossed McCoy's face before the doctor could hide it. Drawing himself up, Spock attempted to remove all the scattered emotions from his expression and his posture.

"Do not worry about me, Doctor. Your serum, in conjunction with rigid meditation has greatly reduced the dangers of enduring Pon Farr alone."

"I know. But I know it won't be a picnic, either. I'll synthesize the serum for you. We'll need to begin administering it immediately. I'd guess, by tonight, tomorrow at the latest, I'll need to diagnose you with Tarkalean flu and confine you to your room for a week or so."

Spock dipped his chin in acknowledgment then met and held McCoy's eyes.

"Thank you, Dr. McCoy," he said with quiet gratitude.

"Don't thank me yet. I'm heavy handed with the hypospray," he smirked. "Now get back to work."

#

"Hmm," Jim hummed and tapped the data pad thoughtfully.

His mother glanced up from whatever she was working on at her own desk, rolled her eyes and went back to her work.

She'd gotten used to him curling up in a corner chair in her office and had quickly learned to tune him out. She hadn't asked why he chose to invade her space instead of using the much larger office upstairs. Hadn't had to, considering this had been his father's preferred work space before… before Winona had taken over as Regent.

The formal office of the Prince of Enterprise was an oppressive, depressing museum filled with ornate antiques. Everywhere Jim looked, symbols of centuries of history and tradition filled the room. Reminders that, if he failed, he'd be letting down the generations of successful ancestors who had come before him.

Unfortunately, failure was what he'd had, so far. He'd spent a week and a half trying to find evidence or clues to link the incidents in Enterprise to Khan. Or, barring that, at least finding his contact within the province. Eventually, frustration and dead ends made Jim stop banging his head against that particular wall. He'd spent the last couple of days trying to find a pattern of any kind to the various accidents that had befallen the province.

Now, he thought he had a least a partial understanding of how the saboteur choose some of the targets.

"Hey, Mom, if I wanted to make sure some information got to the entire province by the end of the day, how would I do it?"

She glanced up at him again, her single arched eyebrow reminding him of Spock. He got that look from his estate manager. A lot. Now though, it had become almost an exasperated sign of affection, rather than the judgmental expression it had been in the beginning. Jim looked forward to eliciting that response, now. Actually, he looked forward to eliciting any response from the Vulcan. He was getting good at it.

"Well, Della X has a show that is generously called news. It's little more than gossip and fluff, but she's very popular. If you're on the lunchtime airing, everyone will be talking about you by dinnertime. And she's been asking for an interview since you got back."

"Great. Do you know how to contact her?"

His mother's eyes narrowed and he fidgeted under her focused gaze. "Why?"

"A lot of the mechanical sabotage occurs within a day or two of it being mentioned in one of Monarch's media outlet." He brought his PADD over to her desk. "This is an interview Sulu gave a travel blog about the various opportunities and adventures available for tourists in the preserve. The video of him patrolling on his ATV was posted with it. Two days later, the ATV was vandalized."

"I don't suppose it could just be a coincidence?"

"If you scroll through, you'll see similar 'coincidences' for the mining drill, the farm equipment, Scotty's hovercar. Usually in response to some article or interview about how it could bring income or attention to the province. Even some of the poaching happened after that nature documentary shot here."

He paused thoughtfully. "I bet if we knew how long things like the watering hole contamination and the wheat blight took, we'd be able to find some mention of them in the media along that timeline."

"Okay," she said, handing him back the tablet. "So how do you plan on using this information?"

"I'll do an interview, and casually mention I'm working on Dad's antique Corvette. Maybe suggest that I'm going to put it on a touring vehicle circuit before installing it in the Enterprise Cultural Museum to drum up interest and tourism in the province. Khan won't be able to resist a chance to take a shot at Enterprise, dad and me all in one go. He'll send his lackey and I'll be waiting."

"You'll be waiting with a security detail, you mean."

"Mom, I can't risk it. We don't know who's involved. I don't know who I can trust."

"You can trust Spock and Scotty and Sulu. Even your friend, Dr. McCoy."

"All right. I'll take Spock. He'll be best in a fight. If I drag too many people away from their usual routines, someone's bound to notice."

His mother didn't look happy when she handed over Della's contact information, but she didn't argue with him anymore, either.

#

Three hours later, Jim felt as if he'd been through a meat grinder. His interview with Della X was the most grueling twenty minutes of his life.

And he'd been in bar a fight with a squad of Klingons.

Still, he was pretty proud of his performance. He'd dropped the information about the Corvette while managing to avoid embarrassing himself or the family by blundering into any of the leading questions she kept trying to trap him with. He'd also managed, mostly, to avoid her wandering hands and suggestive offers. He'd finished the interview with his dignity more or less intact.

Now he just had to get Spock on board with his plan and he'd be all set.

Whistling, he let himself into the lab and stopped dead.

Spock sat on the stool, facing away from the door and McCoy hovered next to him, hypospray pressed to the Vulcan's neck.

"What the hell?" he demanded, panic scorching through him. "What's wrong with Spock?"

He didn't think they'd actually been working with a sample of the plague, but he wouldn't put anything past them in the pursuit of a cure. If Spock was infected…

Jim's chest squeezed tight at the thought and he refused to even entertain it. He wasn't ready to let Spock out of his life, so he wouldn't allow anything to be seriously wrong.

Bones and Spock both turned, surprise brightening their faces before Bones lowered his brows in irritation and Spock smoothed his features back into the usual imperturbable mask.

"He's fine. Showing minor symptoms of Tarkalean flu. Just giving him a little something to boost his immune system. He should be right as rain in a few days."

Relief that it wasn't something serious loosened the tightness in Jim's lungs, yet…

"Rest? How much rest?"

Spock was his only back up. If Sulu and Scotty didn't show up to their weekly poker game, it would be noticed. And, as much as Jim was appreciative of having McCoy around to patch him up, the doctor wasn't much use in a fight.

"Rest, Jim," Bones glowered at him. "As in a light dinner and a quiet evening in bed."

An image of pale skin and lithe muscle stretched across Jim's sheets flashed in his imagination, tightening his lungs in a much different way than a moment before. Jim focused on his mission to chase the inappropriate thought away and pursed his lips.

He was a combat trained officer in the Confederation Starfleet. He could manage a stake out on his own. If more miscreants showed up than he could handle, he'd call for back up then.

"Right, well, being sick sucks. Hope you feel better soon. See you guys at dinner."

Disproportionately disappointed that Spock wouldn't be joining him in the night's adventure, Jim ducked out of the lab to prepare for the evening ahead.

#

Dinner strained Spock's control in way he hadn't experience since he was a child. Emotions assaulted him from every direction. Irritation. Anger. Lust. Despair. It all spiraled within him as he clawed at the edges of sanity and dragged his shredded logic protocols around him like a tattered shield.

It took everything he had not to break Pavel's fingers for innocently patting Kirk's shoulder when he passed by. He constantly fought the urge to stare at his prince. Or, worse, to leap across the table and drop himself into Kirk's lap. Instead, he tried to keep every scrap of attention on cutting his meal into increasingly smaller bits. Actually eating was out of the question, his hunger for food had been completely subsumed for less logical appetites.

He had never been so happy to see a meal end. The fact that he ascribed a positive emotion to escaping a physically necessary activity showed just how far he'd sunk. He swiftly exited the dining room before he could humiliate himself by revealing his condition to all and sundry.

Briefly he detoured to the estate's library. As a child, his mother had given him antique bound books on the few occasions when he'd been ill or injured. She'd said there was something comforting in the feel of a real book that an electronic one just couldn't replicate. For him, perhaps, it was more the memory of her reading to him than the book itself that was soothing. Either way, tonight, he could use all the comfort he could find while his body and mind betrayed him.

"Spock. What are you doing here?"

He blinked and turned. Winona stood in the door way, lower lip caught in her teeth and looking disproportionately concerned.

"I was selecting a book before retiring for the evening."

"Why aren't you out with Jimmy?"

"Where is the prince?" A sensation of cold fear made his body weak for a moment. Illogical. He didn't even know where Kirk was or why he should be with him. There was no reason for him to feel concern. "Why should I be with him?"

"He didn't ask you to go with him? Oh, dear."

He crossed the library in two strides and barely stopped himself from growling at Winona when he stood in front of her.

"Where is he? What's going on?"

While she told him of Kirk's conclusion, his plan and his actions, Spock felt the cold turn to ice. The fear become panic and anger.

"I will find him," Spock snarled and strode past her out of the room.

It took him only a few minutes to find Kirk, hiding in the shadow of an old outbuilding. He was situated so he had a clear view of the garage's large overhead door, as well as the smaller side entrance. Spock only spotted him because he knew the prince was near and it was the most logical place to observe the garage.

"Ahh, Spock," Kirk whined in a whisper and tapped the tricorder he'd been using to monitor for life signs. "I got my hopes up when I saw you coming. I thought you were the saboteur."

Ignoring the words, Spock moved right into Kirk's space, pinning him back against the shed and snarling.

"What do you think you're doing? It's dangerous for you to be out here alone."

The muscles under Spock's hands bunched then immediately relaxed in a show of trust that startled him. But not enough to let go.

"Spock."

The way Kirk said his name was warm and silky, filled with humor and affection. His smile wasn't the one he flashed when he talked to strangers or attempted to charm someone. It was the real one, the one that reached his eyes and invited its recipient to share the joke.

"I didn't know you cared."

A thousand different responses leapt to Spock's tongue. Illogical, drastic urges twisted up his insides. He could admit how very much he cared. He could lean forward and kiss the lips like he'd been trying not to fantasize about for days. Or he could run away and hide before he revealed anything at all.

Instead, he removed his hands from Jim, straightened up and tugged his tunic into place before tucking his hands behind his back.

"Your mother was worried about you."

For a second, the blue eyes clouded with disappointment, but it disappeared so quickly, Spock was sure it had been his imagination or a trick of the shadows. Then the prince dropped down to sit cross-legged on the ground.

"Yeah, well, you're here, now, so pull up a square of dirt and stay awhile."

He patted the ground next to him and then went back to examining the tricorder for signs of intruders.

They sat in silence for awhile and Spock had to keep pulling his attention away from the way Kirk's skin brushed against his occasionally. The way heat of his body seeped into Spock's, warming the chill air around them. He tried to think of the research project. Of his parents. Of anything, but his thoughts kept circling back to the man at his side.

It was shocking how much Spock had cataloged Kirk's appearance and mannerism. And extremely discomfiting that he now couldn't stop replaying every memory he had tucked away over the past few weeks.

The way his eye's crinkled when he laughed. The way he his fingers combed through his hair when he was frustrated. The way he sprawled on whatever piece of furniture he dropped himself into.

"Why do you hate being called 'Your Highness' so much?"

Spock was shocked to hear the question come out of his own lips. The serum was wearing off and he was again losing the even the shadow of control he was use to.

Kirk fidgeted uneasily next to him and turned to look at the garage, rather than meeting Spock's eyes.

Interesting. He hadn't intended to ask the question, but it seemed there was something here to learn.

"Whenever someone says it, you automatically correct them. But there's a moment where you freeze, like you're trying not to flinch away from it."

Kirk sighed and stared out at the empty night so long, Spock concluded that he didn't intend to answer. So when Jim spoke, it startled him.

"The housekeeper and gardener, they were here when I was a kid. They've actually been working here since my dad was a kid. Same thing with most of the staff at the estate house when Sam and I were growing up. You've seen pictures of my dad. I've always been the spitting image of him. When they'd look at me, call me by my title, they'd get this look. Sad and determined and I don't know…."

His voice dropped off and his foot scuffed at the dirt. "I hated it. I felt like everyone saw the ghost of George Kirk when they looked at me. The only ones who saw  _Jim_  were my mom and Sam. Then Sam went to school and mom was busier than ever being regent."

"So you went away to Starfleet Academy."

"Yeah. It's sort of a tradition. Every generation had a son or daughter who went off and joined. Got the degree, spent a few years in space then came back. My dad went to the Academy, but he was heir. He only spent two years on a ship before he came home to run the province. Nobody out there compared me to him. Not even Pike, and he was here during the Romulan incursion. Out there I was just Lieutenant Commander Kirk."

"Now, you're not just Prince James, second son, you ruler of Enterprise. Shoved even further into the comparison you were trying to avoid."

Kirk pinched his lips together and nodded.

"I never intended to come back here to stay. A visit here or there. I've been avoiding commitment all of my life."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Starfleet is a commitment."

"It's different. For one thing, as a Royal, I have an easy out anytime I want it. But there, I'm not tied to one person or one place. It's about commitment to the chain of command, to the missions and the ideals. I can't disappoint an ideal."

"You think you'll disappoint the people here?"

"I'm not him. I'm not George Kirk and that's who they want me to be. I'm not a hero. I'm not a politician and a brilliant leader. I'm not a genius like mom or Sam. I'm just impulsive and easily distracted."

Spock thought about the single-minded focus Kirk had displayed in the short time he'd been back. The way he'd charmed creditors and gotten farmers and minors better terms on their loans. How he'd bullied, organized and directed the various leaders of the province into changes that streamlined archaic systems into something that worked for the people. In the two weeks he'd been on Monarch, he'd managed to piece together more information on the saboteur than the rest of the staff, Spock included, had done in three years.

He wanted to disagree with Kirk's self-assessment, but he didn't think the prince was ready to hear how good he was at leading Enterprise. Instead, once again, his emotions outstripped his good sense and the question he really wanted the answer to slipped out.

"Will you leave, then? Once you've proven Khan is responsible and Enterprise is viable without your constant supervision."

"I don't know. I mean, I have total faith in you and Mom to take care of things. I'd probably end up being the figurehead I've always feared." Kirk tilted his head back and stared up at the stars. "And Pike's holding my place on the Kelvin as long as he can. I like my ship. I like my crew. I know who I am up there. I'm good at what I do out there."

Disappointment grabbed hold of Spock and twisted in unfamiliar, painful jabs. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. It was more important than ever to get control. He couldn't show all this want and need and indescribable desire.

The tricorder beeped and Kirk shifted, thrumming with excitement.

"Life sign," Kirk murmured, the sound little more than a breath. "Just one. Other side of the building. There is a—"

The soft tinkle of breaking glass carried to them on the wind.

"There  _was_  a window. Let's get him."

Kirk was already moving, running at a good clip but still managing not to make a sound.

Spock pushed to his feet, afraid to let his prince get to far ahead. Dizziness and weakness swept through him and he fell back against the shed. He had to get up. Had to move had to protect his mate, but his body betrayed him.

"Jim, wait," he croaked, but Kirk didn't even slow.

#

"Jim, wait."

Jim barely heard Spock in his rush toward the garage. If he listened, he might stop and he couldn't risk it. This might be his only chance. He wasn't going to let the son of a bitch get away.

He slammed through the side door, eyes swinging toward the sound of a surprised squeaked. The garage was mostly dark but, in the glow of the security lights, Jim could make out the weedy silhouette of the intruder backpedaling toward the window he'd broken into. Covered head to toe in black, including a full face mask, it was impossible for him to identify.

"You. Stop. You're not going anywhere."

The figure did stop but fumbled with something at his side.

"Look—"

He froze when the intruders hand came up, a familiar shape in it and Jim realized he'd made a mistake. The phaser was pointed right at his chest and he had no place to go.

The door behind him banged open and a body barreled into him, wrapping him up and rolling him to the ground a second before the phaser discharged into the space he'd been occupying. His back hit the concrete, breath leaving him in a whoosh and head bouncing slightly on the hard floor.

Feet ran past them in a blur, the door banging again.

Jim tried to push himself up in order to give chase, but Spock growled and held him down with a single hand on his chest.

"Spock! He's getting away," he shouted, trying to struggle up one more time. All it got him was another growl and strong, long fingers methodically stroking over his body, presumably looking for injuries. The heat lingering in the trail of those caresses made it hard to catch his breath. Until the fingers brushed over the tender spot where his head contacted the floor.

"Ow."

Spock carefully, but determinedly turned Jim's head to the side and leaned in to check it more closely.

After a minute of that, Jim had had enough. He twisted his head back to insist he was fine, but the words died in his throat.

They were so close, nose to nose, all Jim could see was those amazing eyes. Glassy and filled with something hot and dark. Something very, very different from their usual precise control.

"Spock."

It was barely a murmur on his lips, a soft breath that lingered between them.

"Jim." His name was whispered like a prayer and he melt back against the floor.

Then Spock blinked and the heat disappeared in a flash as the Vulcan scrambled off of him and stood up.

"My apologies," Spock's voice was slightly breathless, but his body was at attention and still. "I was concerned for your safety. The flu… perhaps the medicine… I am not myself."

With a deep breath, Spock held out his hand. "Are you all right?"

Jim, confused, took the offered hand and got to his feet. "Yeah, I'm good. A little bump. Would have been much worse if you hadn't saved me. Thank you."

Their hands remained firmly clasped, and Spock didn't seem to notice when he shook his head with firm determination.

"There is no need to thank me. I should have never been so far behind you."

They stood like that, bodies close, eyes locked and something passing between them until Spock's gaze dropped to their hands.

He let go immediately and stepped away from Jim.

"I'm sorry. It's…"

"The medicine, I know," Jim offered him a smile, wishing that it were something more. "Bones has some stuff that'll knock you through a loop."

Then Jim glanced around the garage and asked half-heartedly, "Do you think we can still catch him? Or her?"

"I don't think…" Spock tipped his head back, distractedly turning away and sniffing. "Do you smell that?"

"Seriously, Spock. You might not want to let Bones near you with a hypo again." Jim stepped closer, worried about the usually stoic Vulcan's completely uncharacteristic behavior. Then he caught a familiar whiff, as well. "It's stale oil, which, garage, but also… old wheat?… and…"

"Lignin. The chemical that gives old paper its distinctive smell."

"Old paper. Well. I think we know who are inside man is, now. Let's go pick him up."

"Wait," Spock stopped him with a light touch, removing his hand as soon as Jim turned back. "We still have no physical proof. We may find some when we search his resident, but we cannot depend on it. He does not know, yet, that we know who he is. We have a better chance of connecting him to Khan if we keep that knowledge a secret."

He hated being this close and still not getting his hands on the bastard. But Spock, as usual, was right. If he wanted to take down Khan, he had to let Darvin go. For now.

"All right. I'll send Sulu to follow him. You and I can comb through his records and see what we can find."


	4. Chapter 4

By dawn the next morning, Spock found it harder and harder to concentrate. But the late night hours in Winona's office working side by side with Jim had been worth it. It had taken a while, quite a few false starts and some, possibly, unethical steps by Jim, but they'd broken through the electronic smokescreen and found an inarguable money trail that meandered its way from Khan to Darvin.

Jim worked furiously on putting the information into a timeline even a child could follow. Considering the bias of some of the Royal Council, he might have to break it down further. Spock was supposed to be searching the records for any additional ammunition to use against Khan, but he could not keep his eyes off of Jim.

His face was pale and lined with sleep deprivation. His hair was mussed and sticking up oddly, his clothes were wrinkled beyond any hope of straightening and his hands shook slightly from all the caffeine he'd been dispensing from the replicator. Yet, he was still the most attractive man Spock had ever seen. Despite the lack of sleep, the man's energy and enthusiasm was infectious. His smile grew wider with every new piece of evidence and his eyes sparked with mischief and victory as they tied the proof up in a neat little bow.

It was only Dr. McCoy's entrance that managed to pull his attention away from Kirk.

The doctor's brow furrowed with disapproval when his glare dragged from Spock to Jim and back again.

"Spock, you're supposed to be resting. This," he waved his hands at the stacks of data chips and print outs and Jim's abandoned coffee mugs. "This doesn't look very restful to me."

"Relax, Bones. He's fine. He's been sitting all night. I promise, he hasn't strained anything. We almost have everything we need to nail Khan."

"He's fine? Really?" The angry glower transferred from Jim to Spock. "How long have you been running a fever?"

Spock's eyelids slid closed then open in a long blink as he assessed his body.

"I… do not know. Several hours, perhaps."

McCoy waved his arms, as if the answered proved his point.

"When has he not been able to tell you every detail of his biological functions on command?" Then the doctor walked over to stand in front of Spock with his hands on his hips. "You need to get some rest. Now."

He knew the doctor was talking about more than just his physical symptoms. However, Jim was depending on him. "I am fine, for the moment. I can see this through."

He tried to focus on the doctor, but the room wavered in front of his eyes. It wasn't until Jim hurried across the room that he realized he was swaying on his chair. He leaned hard into the hand, closing his eyes and enjoying contact.

"Christ, Spock, why didn't you say something? Sorry, Bones. I should have seen he wasn't a hundred percent. Unfortunately, his fifty percent is better than most people's all out and it's hard to tell."

Kirk's communicator chirped and he answered it. "Talk to me, Sulu."

"The idiot ran straight to Khan. I've got a dozen pictures of them together. Scotty is with Enterprise Security, tossing Darvin's place."

"Good. Grab him as soon as he's out of Khan's sight and meet me at the Royal Council building. Tell Scotty to bring along anything he finds, as well."

He ended the communication and chuckled. "I hope the other princes are early morning types."

The hand on his arm squeezed lightly and he opened his eyes to find Jim leaning close, lips turned down in concern.

"Get some rest. I got this. I'll give you all the details when I get back." He squeezed one last time then moved away, nodding at McCoy before heading toward the door. "Take care of him, Bones. I have to go get cleaned up if I'm going to address the Council and accuse a Duke of treason."

Spock watched as Jim left with a triumphant grin. Then he continued to watch the empty doorway until McCoy cleared his throat. Spock tore his eyes away and flinched when he saw the pity and knowledge in the doctor's expression.

"Jim? Really? I thought you'd have better taste."

Spock stiffened, tried to pull his tattered dignity back together. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right," he said, voice heavy with sarcasm. "Have you explained Pon Farr to him?"

"Of course not. I stayed with the flu prevarication."

"What? Why? You want him, he wants you. It's a much better solution than meditation and medication."

"He does not want me."

McCoy's eyes bulged and he sucked in his lips in exasperation and disbelief. Finally, he sighed and pinched his nose. "I've known Jim a long time. Trust me. He wants you."

Spock's heart sped up and warm hope surged through him. He wanted to believe it. Yet…

"Even if… It does not matter. He is not staying. Exposing Khan will free him, and you, to return to the Kelvin."

"Well, I suppose you're right," McCoy frowned, looking less happy than Spock would have suspected. "Pon Farr happens only every seven years, though. He'll come back for you, when you need him."

"I have had a mind-mate who was obligated but barely tolerant of her commitment to me. I do not relish that kind of disinterest in my mind, again. It is illogical for a Vulcan to be romantic. Yet, I find myself longing for what my parents have."

"The kind of devotion that keeps my mother on a dying planet not even her own to tend to my father. And keeps my father hanging on, despite agonizing pain. For her sake, to spare her the grief of his death and a broken bond."

Spock shook his head and let go his attempts to maintain his posture, allowing him to slump back in the chair.

"After years of trying to be as Vulcan as possible, I find the very human failure of wanting it all and refusing to settle for less than everything."

"What will you do, then?"

"I will ask you for another injection of the serum, then I will lock myself in my room and meditate until the blood fever has passed."

#

Sulu and Scotty were already in the lobby of the Royal Council building. Darvin sat on the bench between them, leaning forward with his arms braced on his knees and his head hanging dejectedly.

Jim had absolutely no sympathy for the man and ignored him completely while he got an update from Scotty.

"He actually kept a detailed log, Jim. We found it on his office computer. He's ready to tell the Council everything."

"Is that right, Mr. Darvin?" Jim asked coolly, scrolling through files on the PADD Scotty had handed him and still not bothering to look at Darvin, even when he spoke to him.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness. Please forgive me. I'm throwing myself on your mercy."

This time, Jim didn't flinch at his title. Instead he drew his shoulders back and glared down at Darvin.

"I generally don't feel much mercy or forgiveness for anyone who hurts and betrays my people. Let alone those who take pot shots at me in the dark."

"The phaser was set on stun," Darvin mumbled eyes directed on his feet once again.

"He engineered the contamination in the watering hole," Sulu's face was passive, but his voice was pure ice and his hands clenched into tight fists.

"Also, the blight that almost destroyed the entire wheat yield a couple of years ago."

"Why?" Jim demanded. "I don't understand why you'd do any of this, but you're a farmer. Why would you risk your own livelihood?"

"Because I don't want to be a farmer," he shouted, looking animated for the first time since Jim had walked in. "I escaped. I was off Monarch, doing work I loved. Just starting to get recognition. Then my older brother got hurt. Mother had to take care of him and I was the only one who could take over our 'ancestral heritage.' The last of six generations of Darvins to work the same plot of land."

He spat out the words like they were bitter in his mouth.

"I hate the farm. I hate the whole damn planet. I couldn't wait to find a way to escape. I thought I was free of it only to get dragged back by guilt and expectation. Khan offered me a way out."

He took a deep shuddering breath, glaring hotly at Jim.

"No one could blame me if the entire province became unviable. Then abandoning the farm wouldn't be my fault. It would be yours. And I'd have enough money to take care of my family and still be free of this place."

Jim took a step back. Not at the vehemence of Darvin's rant, but from the ugly mirror of his words.

Was that how he'd sounded in the beginning, when he'd first returned to Monarch? A resentful, petulant child wrapped up in his own selfishness. Not giving a damn about what anyone else suffered. Seeing only the negative.

In the beginning.

When had his focus shifted from saving Enterprise so he could escape to saving Enterprise because it was his and he damn well wasn't going to give up on it or his people without a fight?

The door opened and several of the Princes entered, along with Khan who chatted casually with Watley. The Duke flashed a self-satisfied smile at Jim before drifting around the rest of lobby.

Jim knew the moment Khan caught sight of Darvin. His eyes grew wide and he stopped talking mid-sentence. Then the shock gave way to dark fury and Jim automatically stepped in front of his prisoner.

Ronald walked in behind the others, face pulled down into a demanding frown, and ignored the rest of the gathered princes.

"Jim, what's the meaning of this? It's impolite to call a meeting on such short notice."

"And so early," someone muttered from behind him.

"I apologize, Your Highness. The matter is urgent, and as soon as I put together all the pieces, I didn't stop to look at the clock. I just wanted to bring a traitor to justice."

His announcement set the gathered group to muttering.

"What are you talking about? What traitor?"

"Why don't we all head upstairs. I'd sort of like to make this more or less official."

Movement caught his eye and he looked back to see Khan slipping back through the crowd toward the door.

"Where are you going, your Grace? Things are just starting to get interesting."

"This sounds like the type of serious matter that requires a closed session the Council. I wouldn't presume to intrude."

"Don't worry about that, old boy, I'm personally inviting you to join us. In fact, I'm commanding it," he growled, then tilted his head in a silent command. "Sulu."

The ranger moved immediately around the crowd and took up position by Khan. The Duke drew himself to full height and lifted his chin, defiant until the end.

"How… thoughtful of you."

#

Several hours later Jim finally returned to the estate and flopped down on his usual chair in his mother's office. Bones handed him a glass of bourbon with a gruff greeting before settling on the settee.

"Well?" Winona demanded once the three of them were settled. "How did it go?"

"It couldn't have gone better. I laid out all of the evidence we'd collected and watched Khan get paler and paler when he realize we had him dead to rights. Have to give him credit though, he managed to hold onto that superior sneer. Right up until Darvin started speaking."

Jim sipped at his drink, and let his grin widen when he remembered.

"Apparently we weren't the only province Khan had his eyes on. Excalibur and Defiant also brought forward evidence of they'd been compiling against him. Neither had enough to hang Khan on their own, but with ours, it was very damning. That's about the time Khan lost it and started trying to bluster and threaten and lie."

"I take it it didn't do him any good?"

"Nope, the Council had heard enough. Khan was stripped of his title on the spot and sent, along with Darvin, to a secure facility to await trial."

Jim leaned back, feeling extremely proud of himself. Except of course, that he couldn't take all the credit.

"Where's Spock? He should be here to enjoy this."

"He's not feeling well, dear. Dr. McCoy prescribed bed rest."

Jim had been in a lot of tight spots with Bones over the years. He knew the man better than he knew his own brother. He recognized the scowl of guilt and wince of concern that flicked across McCoy's face before he tried to drown it by slamming back what was left of the whiskey in his glass.

Jim set his own drink aside, playing along and filling in the rest of the details. Eventually, there was nothing left to tell and his mother excused herself to suggest a celebration dinner to Pavel.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Jim rounded on McCoy to demand the truth.

"It's not the Tarkalean flu, is it?"

"I believe you are aware that I am bound by doctor-patient confidentiality."

"God damn it. He's going to be okay, though, right?" Jim asked desperately. When he only got a helpless shrug in return, he swallowed hard and asked, "Is it terminal?"

Bones pinched his lips together and shrugged again before pouring them both more to drink. It was his silent way of saying maybe, but probably not. That was still unacceptable to Jim. Even the possibility of losing Spock was not something Jim wanted to consider.

"You're doing everything you can right? Wait, shouldn't he be in a hospital? Why is he alone in his room?"

Turning on his heel, he slammed his whiskey glass on the desk and headed for the door only to be brought up short when Bone's grabbed his arm.

"Jim."

Jim knew he was overreacting, but he couldn't help himself. "I've just gotten to know him, Bones. I'm not ready to lose him yet."

"I thought you did all this," McCoy waved his hand around to indicate the whole investigation, "so you could get back into space. You'll lose him, one way or another."

"Yeah, well, that desire isn't really set in stone."

McCoy sighed, picked up Jim's abandoned glass and pushed it back into his hands.

"Sit," he commanded and plopped himself back down onto the settee.

Jim considered ignoring him, just on general principles, but decided to wait and see where this was going.

Five minutes of silence later, he was beginning to regret that decision when Bones started talking.

"There are things about Vulcan biology they don't even discuss among themselves. They only begrudgingly shared a lot of their medical information when they were on the brink of extinction from the plague."

Jim listened, shocked and intently focused while McCoy spent fifteen minutes explaining what Pon Farr was, how Vulcan's viewed it and how it was only in the last few years that they'd managed to find ways to help those suffering without mates to survive and endure it. He was relieved to hear that survival rate was nearly ninety-five percent, with the serum and meditation.

"So he just needs someone to sleep with him for the next few days. Why didn't he just say something?"

He had to know Jim would jump in bed with him in a heartbeat. Except… maybe he didn't want to jump Jim.

"Do you…" he cleared his throat, aching a little but wanting to do anything he could to help Spock."Do you know what his type is?"

Bones just rolled his eyes and slumped deeper on the couch.

"Some Vulcan's have found interim mates. Either one-time things or partners they will only see once every seven years, to scratch the itch, so to speak."

He pinned Jim with a serious, are-you-listening look.

"But Spock's parents, they have a sort of legendary romance. Supremely logical Vulcan ambassador marries human Amanda Grayson. Have to imagine that kind of relationship makes an impression on a young half-human, half-Vulcan child. Might make him want someone permanent."

"So what, Spock has someone?" It hurt, made him want to snarl but he swallowed it down. "I'm guessing they're not on Monarch. Can we get them here in time?"

He knew his voice was less than enthusiastic and McCoy shook his head.

"Really? You're that much of an idiot? First of all, he had an arranged mate who died of the plague. Second, haven't you noticed him acting strangely out of character around  _anyone_  in particular, the last few days?"

It took a few seconds for Jim to catch on. To remember the way Spock had always seem to be looking at him. Long fingered hands running all over him. The heat and darkness of those fathomless eyes staring down at him.

Jim was on his feet and halfway to the door, when McCoy spoke up once more.

"Be sure, Jim. Spock isn't Gaila or any of your usual free love types."

Jim didn't bother to stop or answer. He was sure.

#

Spock sat on the floor of his room, lights lowered, surrounded by cushions and his fire pot attempting to lose himself in meditation.

McCoy's serum helped to ease the worst of the symptoms and gave him some semblance of control.

Yet he still burned.

Every emotion he had ever suppressed rolled through in wave after wave, a wild kaleidoscope of joy and fear, fury and hope, longing and disgust.

He'd been chasing them for hours, trying to press them back into their neat little boxes. His failure to constrain them only dug up more long-buried feelings. Shame. Envy. Righteous anger.

In between each wave were the fantasies of James Kirk.

At first, it had been only the images he'd stored up without even realizing that had assaulted him.

His eyes. His hands. His smile. As the day progress, Spock's latent fantasies had taken on a life of their own, blurring the lines between illusion and reality. 

He'd imagined Jim behind him, hands running through his hair. Lying beside him, head cradled in Spock's lap, whispering hot enticing words. Or stretched out on Spock's bed, silent blue eyes pleading for something that made Spock want to strip off the last of his control.

Each time Jim appeared to him, Spock reluctantly dragged his attention back to the here and now, refocusing on the meditation and trying to hold on to whatever was left of his sanity.

So when the image of Jim whispered his name from the doorway, looking stunned and beautiful, Spock closed his eyes and willed the phantasm away.

"Spock, are you all right?"

"I will be better when you go away," he snapped, riding a wave of anger and frustration that would not be held back.

"I'm here to help you."

The imagined voice held an edge of hurt. It also sounded closer and Spock could not resist the impulse to allow one eyelid to lift. The fantasy had moved about halfway across the room and a pinched lip look of concentration had replaced the welcoming smile it had been beckoning him with all afternoon.

"You are a figment of my imagination induced by the blood fever. You cannot help me."

He had not expected the hallucination to give up easily so it was no surprise that it remained. But he had not been expecting the sudden relaxation of its posture nor the way the frown flowed easily into a relieved grin. Spock was losing the last bits of himself, but he was not quite ready to give into madness yet. He slammed his eyes closed to resist the urge to throw himself at someone who was not really there.

"Are you fantasizing about me, then, Spock?"

"I have not stopped fantasizing about you," he admitted. "I cannot stop. I do not wish to."

"There's no need to fantasize, when I'm right here."

The soft voice was right next to him. A whisper in his ear, a breath on his face, a warmth prickling along his skin.

Blinking open his eyes, the sight that met him was the most detailed his imagination had conjured to date. Jim was right next to him, scant inches of air separating them, leaning in, eyes bright.

The last chains of his training drifted away like cobwebs and he gave up on sanity.

"Jim. I need…" he could not finish. There was so very much he wanted from this man.

"I'm here," Jim assured, hand reaching out to brush feather-light against Spock's cheek.

It was enough. It was too much.

Spock snapped rising up, gripping shoulders and pushing, pressing until Jim was on the floor, stretched out under him, as he had been once before. This time, though, Spock had no intention of getting up, of giving up. There was no need, since this wasn't real.

He started with kisses and nips along the smooth skin of Jim's neck, nuzzling and tasting as he moved upward. A soft moan vibrated in the throat under his mouth and he growled in satisfaction. He moved slow and deliberate, tasting every inch of flesh until his lips met Jim's. Until the mouth under his opened with invitation and the body under his squirmed and pressed like it needed to get closer as much as Spock.

He let his tongue invade the sweet heat, a driving rhythm that built as something primal blinded him to everything but the moment and the pleasure. The feel of surrender when the dueling tongue invited him deeper. The strong muscles flexing and shuddering under his hands. The insistent pleading moans that were two voices blending together in the same refrain of desire. The sting of fingers gripping his hips, leaving bruises that he would wear like a badge of honor.

His body echoed the rhythm of the kiss, pressing into the welcoming cradle of thighs, sliding against an echoing hardness beneath him. He was close, but it wasn't enough. He wanted more. Needed it all.

Needed to join with his mate.

He pushed back up on to his knees and paused to stare down at the debauched fantasy beneath him. Kiss redden lips, skin marred beautifully where he trailed his teeth against it. Blue eyes clouded and glassy and filled with lust. One hand already reaching for him.

"Wait, Spock, where are you going?"

The question rocked him.

A hallucination would already know. Every fantasy before had been one step ahead of Spock, luring him deeper.

He forced the fever and lust away, far enough to focus on the man beneath him then pressed one hand over Jim's chest. Beneath his fingers, Spock felt the jump of muscle, the pounding of a heart, the uneven stretch and release of breath.

This was real. Jim was real.

He scrambled back, off Jim and several feet away before his body betrayed him and he collapsed.

"Jim. I'm sorry. You have to go before I…" he couldn't say it, couldn't admit how close he'd come to ruining everything. "You have to go. I can't control it. I'm sorry."

#

"Spock, I'm not going anywhere." Jim sat up carefully, not sure what would spook the Vulcan in his current condition. "I'm really here. You're not imagining me and you don't have to worry about control. I can handle what you've got."

"You can't be here," he insisted.

Jim tried to gather his thoughts while his body still thrummed for the heat and sensations of being so close to Spock and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. The Vulcan followed the hand with his eyes, watching every muscle and breath of Jim's with a dark hunger.

"Hell, no. You're not going to start playing hard to get, now that I know you want me, too." He moved a few inches toward Spock, then hesitated, a single doubt needling its way into his conscience. "You do want me, don't you?"

"Yes," he whispered. "Too much."

"Are you afraid you'll hurt me? Because I'm good with rough sex." He shifted closer, relieved when Spock didn't shy away.

"No. No I am not afraid that I will hurt you."

He was right next to Spock, now, close enough to touch, but he didn't risk it, yet. "Then what is it? What are you afraid of?"

 "I have almost no control left. I cannot guarantee that a psychic bond will not be established, should we continue."

"Yeah, Bone's mentioned that. It's not a problem for me." Then he caught the flash of panic in Spock's eyes. "Is it a problem for you?"

"I was matched with T'Pring when we were seven years old. As we grew, it became evident that I was not what she would have chosen in a mate. I have no doubt, should she have survived and we met at the ritual place, she would have chosen to challenge."

He looked away, hiding his eyes from Jim, but the lamplight highlighted the wetness gathering there all the same.

"I do not relish being a burden to another mind."

"I wouldn't be here if I thought you were going to be a burden."

Spock shuddered and leaned closer, stopping himself a second before their lips brushed together.

"Do you want me to stay, Spock? Will you let me stay?" Jim's words whispered across Spock's lips and his tongue darted out, as if to catch them.

"Yes. I want to you stay."

The last word was heavy with meaning and also with doubt and Jim realized Spock didn't believe he would stay, beyond this brief interlude. He would have to correct that assumption.

But a hot, seeking mouth covered his and that sharp, demanding tongue claimed him and he decided conversation could wait until later. Much later.

Jim shifted closer, his hands smoothing over the thin cotton of Spock's shirt until he found the hem and could slide back up the fever-hot skin.

Spock growled, a deep, primitive sound that echoed through Jim, waking something equally primal in him. That sound was because of him. For him, and him alone. He wanted to hear it, again and again.

But he didn't have time to dwell on the thought. Spock was exploring his body with in a chaotic whirlwind of sensations. Jim lost himself in the way his body sparked and flared under every rough touch and gentle caress. Spock's hands were huge and hot and strong and seemed hell-bent on touching as much of Jim as possible.

Jim did his own exploring, leaving one hand under Spock's t-shirt to memorized every dip and curve of his abdomen. The other reached up to brush the soft skin of his throat, the sharp edge of his cheekbone, up over the pointed curve of his delectable ear.

With every brush of skin and press of lips, something dark and intense flared inside of Jim's head. A deep spark of something erotic yet familiar. Something he wanted to grab hold of and never let go. When Spock's caress drifted back up, hesitating just before touching the meld points, though, Jim began to understand.

He looked up at Spock and smiled into the dark, doubtful, questioning eyes. His hand slid around to the back of Spock's neck and he pulled the Vulcan close, until their foreheads touched.

"Yes," he whispered, pouring his heart and soul into the word. "Do it."

The fingers brushed into his skin and the touch was a welcome burn. Spock filled his mind and he reached out greedily for the electrifying convergence of everything he'd never known he needed. One taste and he knew he'd never willingly give it up. Spock radiated inside of him, a connection and a fire that promised everything if he just held on tight.

Spock's mouth covered his again. The kiss, both gentle and demanding, engulfed him until he lost himself in the whirl of sensation. Somewhere in the cyclone of lust and need, touch and emotion, Spock managed to divest them both of all their clothing. Hot skin moved against hot skin, waves of lust washed through Jim. More than physical desire, it was an unquenchable urge to connect. To pour everything he was into the bond and take everything Spock had in return.

A moan vibrated across his lips and he forced himself to look. Spock's eyes devoured him, awed and darkly possessive. Any doubts that Jim might have held onto fled in the onslaught of that need and the press of strong, sculpted Vulcan muscles pressing him back onto the cushions around them. Everything in him clamored for more. Closer. Now.

Their lips crashed together again, frantic and unstoppable, tasting like lightning, illuminating the physical and emotional fire that pulsed between them. Their bodies shifted and surged together, their thick, heavy erections sliding against each other in a dance, sending sparks of sensation so bright and tormenting through Jim, he knew he couldn't last.

The urgency bouncing between them was a whip, driving them closer and closer to the edge, wrapping their sensations so tightly around them both it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended. Then Spock gentled the kiss, shifting to cage Jim in between strong arms and powerful legs. The lips and tongue dancing over Jim's became slow and promising and soul bearing. Neither of them could hide in the onslaught of elemental hunger. Spock's desperation for completion hummed side by side with his need for restraint.

 _Oh, hell, no._  Jim smirked into the kiss. If they were going to do this, it was all or nothing. He wasn't letting Spock hold anything back. He reached for Spock's hand, drawing two, long fingers into his mouth and sucking hard. He let his tongue slide over the tips, between the knuckles, licking at the base.

Spock went completely still over him before shuddering, his head thrown back and a sweet, needy, keening sound pouring out deep in his throat. And, yeah, Jim was going to do everything in his power to hear that sound again and again.

Then Spock started moving, sliding down, a slow glide that rubbed every inch of his body along every over-sensitized nerve Jim possessed. He sank lower and lower until he could suck the head of Jim's cock into his mouth. Jim bucked up at the unexpected sensation and when he settled back into the cushions, Spock's spit-slick fingers brushed at his hole, gentle but insistent as they slipped inside of him.

Jim's legs spread, opening him and begging silently for anything and everything Spock had to offer him. The first few strokes were gentle yet sure. Then Spock growled again, the vibration dancing from the head of Jim's cock straight to his balls and to somewhere deep and primal and needy inside of him.

Then the hot slick mouth slid down his erection, taking it all into the sweet sucking heat and the fingers inside of him found the perfect, hard, fast rhythm that took him straight to the edge of his sanity.

"Fuck, Spock. Now." The words were blurted out rapid fire, as need overwhelmed everything inside of him. "Do it now. Fuck me. I need…"

He continued to ramble, words pouring out of him unchecked.

Spock sat up, stretching away and the sudden coolness made Jim protest, brought him to the edge of begging.

Then he heard a snap, felt the first, cool drops of lube and relaxed. Spock's cock pressed into his ready body, stretching him wider with a sweet burn until he was filled with Spock, covered by his hard body, surrounded, inside and out with the sure, drenching presence of his mate.

Jim rocked against the body over him and Spock took the hint, took up the rhythm, wrapping one strong hand around Jim's begging cock to give a perfect counter-point of sensation with every thrust. Pleasure and need and burning hunger whiplashed from one to the other and back again. A dozen emotions ratcheted them together in a rapid fire flash of sweet pleasure until neither could hold back anything. Until everything they were spilled between them in the bond.

Jim's body tightened hovering on the edge and Spock thrust in one last time, his hand tightening and Jim felt the sweet pulse of Spock's pleasure inside him, pushing him over the edge to his own blessed release.

Spock's head dropped to his shoulder, his warm lips brushing along his collarbone. Jim slid one hand around his lover's back, the other soothingly brushed through the silky hair and he hummed with happiness, letting exhaustion and pleasure pull him into the softness of sleep. 

#

Spock woke disoriented by the dark room, despite his internal clock telling him it was morning. Not to mention the feel of another body pressing against him and leaving him only the very edge of his bed on which to lie.

Shifting to his side, he froze when he caught sight of the muscular, naked body stretched out next to him.

Jim. Covered in finger-shaped bruises and bite marks that stood out starkly against the smooth, warm skin. For a moment, guilt started to twist its way in but the memory of the past three days seeped back in and overrode the doubts. He shifted the blanket still covering his own body, and saw the reciprocated marks marring his own skin. Definitely marks of shared pleasure.

He turned his attention back to Jim, beautiful and relaxed in sleep. The illogical urge to reach out and stroke his fingers over the marks he'd left behind was strong, but he reined it in. Pon Farr and the blood fever had passed, for the most part. He had no excuse to give into sentimentality or romanticism, any longer.

Still, he found it surprisingly difficult to accept that this was most likely the last moments of intimacy he would share with Jim. A fragile mental connection had taken root between them and, as much as he would like to have strengthened it, he knew that he'd have to allow it to atrophy with time. It was harder to suppress the regret and longing which welled up when he accepted that, now having experienced it, he would miss the physicality of his prince as much as he would miss the companionship, when Jim returned to his ship.

Before he could come to terms with this, Jim stretched beside him, cool toes burrowing under the blanket to brush over the surprisingly sensitive skin of Spock's shins. A large warm hand slid over his abdomen and Spock had to concentrate not to gasp in pleasure or turn into the touch.

Instead, when blue eyes blinked at him with a sleepy, questioning look, he smoothed his face into a neutral expression, allowing only one eyebrow to rise in inquiry.

"Good morning." His voice, thankfully, was even. "Are you well?"

Jim frowned and blink away the last of the sleep before awareness began to dawn in his eyes.

"Oh. You're back to being yourself, then huh?"

His second eyebrow rose to meet the first. "Are you disappointed?"

"I don't know," Jim tilted his head and smiled smugly. "Does it mean we have to wait seven years to have sex again?"

Spock's mind froze, uncertain what the prince was suggesting. While he would very much like to continue the physical as well as emotional aspects of the relationship, Jim would most likely be leaving soon. Was Jim suggesting some sort of relationship of convenience whenever he was on Monarch? Or, perhaps, given his sense of humor, it was simply a joke meant to lighten the awkwardness of the moment?

"Whoa, Spock, easy there. Didn't mean to break you." Jim patted his stomach once, then pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. "Let me wake up a minute, then we really need to talk."

Spock's entire body went still, and he felt as if the room's temperature had dropped several degrees, though he knew that was impossible. He understood that particular human euphemism and all that it implied.

"There is no need to discuss this further. I appreciate your help in this rather personal and delicate matter. I have no further expectations of you."

He stopped when a peculiar tightness gripped his throat. Then, perhaps a lingering result of the blood fever still remained when he spoke without careful consideration.

"Pon Farr is not required for Vulcan's to engage in physical intimacy, if that was what you were asking. I will look forward to your return visits to Monarch."

He couldn't say more, couldn't offer more, he just left the option there for Jim to make of it what he would.

Jim, fully awake now, shook his head and leaned into Spock, pinning him with a look as well as his body.

"Okay, no. We really do need to talk. I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't understand."

"I'm resigning my commission with Starfleet. I am going to stay on Monarch. Permanently."

"I thought you wanted to expose Khan so the Council would give you the flexibility to return to the Kelvin while maintaining your title?"

"I did. That was the plan. But I've kind of realized that I wasn't so much running from other people's expectations of me, I was running from my own. And Enterprise isn't nearly as boring and predictable as I remembered."

He laughed, then leered suggestively at Spock.

Spock swallowed hard, then asked, "The past three days, was it…"

He couldn't finished the question, had never wanted something this badly. He tried to lock the need away but he was sure Jim saw how deep it ran in him.

Jim's hand slid up to cup his jaw, thumb gliding along his lower lip.

"It was, I hope, the start of something serious. If that's what you want."

"I would like that very much. However, I feel that I should make it clear that the past few days have been somewhat of an aberration. Most of the time I will be—"

"A logical, rational pain in the neck? I'm aware. I kind of like that side of you, too. It balances my own reckless abandon. I think we'll be good together."

Spock relaxed into him and tilted his face up. "As do I."

The brush of lips on lips started out as a soft promise, but heat quickly flared, burning bright and hot between them, and Spock realized the fervor would not be confined to the fires of Pon Farr.

#

Jim paused in the doorway of their shared office and just watched Spock for a minute. The Vulcan sat at his desk, reading something on his tablet, his mouth curved up ever so slightly and his eyes were a little softer than usual. In their six months together, Jim had learned to recognize that as an expression of pure joy for Spock.

"Good news?"

"Very. The serum Dr. McCoy and I developed is doing well in the initial trials. All of the volunteer test subjects are improving rapidly. One even seems to have had the disease completely eradicated from his body."

" _His_  body? Your father?" Jim asked hopefully.

Spock's lips twitched upward even more. "Yes. Mother says he is doing well and on the road to a full recovery."

"That's terrific."

Jim stepped fully inside, closing the door and engaging the lock behind him. Then he crossed the room in two strides, dropped heavily onto Spock's lap and claimed the smile in a deep kiss.

Months together had resulted in more than a few compromises. Jim was impetuousness and enthusiastic in his affection while Spock was an extremely private individual. In time, however, Spock had learned to accept some degree of spontaneity and, in turn, Jim had learned to protect Spock's dignity from prying eyes. Most of the time.

Eventually, Jim broke the kiss.

"As soon as they lift the quarantine for good, you and I are going to Vulcan to visit. I promise."

"You wish to meet my parents?"

"Why not? You've met mine." Jim's grin faded when he watched the surprised pleasure slip into Spock's eyes. He thought they had settled that particular subject. "You know I'm in this for the long haul, right?"

"I was… uncertain. We have never discussed duration."

"Spock, I understood going in that Pon Farr wasn't something you shared lightly. What we did had permanent repercussions."

"Actually—"

"Shut up." Jim pressed two fingers over Spock's still moving lips. "As far as I'm concerned it's permanent. We're Vulcan married."

Spock carefully brushed Jim's fingers away and looked at him seriously.

"Actually, we're not."

"What?"

Had he misunderstood? He thought Spock wanted permanent, too.

"We have not met in the place of  _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_."

Spock's eyebrows drew together and he shifted his gaze to stare at Jim's shoulder. Another subtle sign he had learned to read. Spock was nervous.

"However, you are human. I am half-human. There are rituals for humans that can take place anywhere."

"Are you saying you want to get married, Spock?"

Again, the Vulcan hesitated. He actually fidgeted slightly under Jim before forcing himself still.

"It is the next logical step, if we are both certain we want this arrangement to become permanent."

"Do you, Spock? Are you really sure you want to be stuck with me?"

Spock's eyes shot up, once again meeting Jim's. He let a hint of a real smile peek through, something he only ever allowed Jim to see.

"Yes," he answered. "Very much."

"Good, because I wasn't letting you go without a fight." Jim dropped several light kisses on Spock's lips, then sat back, cradling his chin in his hand in a dramatically thoughtful pose. "Now, the only question is: Do we go the traditional route and make my mother happy? Or do we elope and avoid the media circus of a Royal Wedding and never hear the end of it from Winona?"

Jim watched the dawning horror of the choice brim in Spock's eyes and laughed heartily before resuming the kissing.


End file.
